UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


OP" 

Mrs.  SARAH  P.  WALS  WORTH. 

Received  October,  1894. 
Accession  s  No  .  <5~]?3  ftf  .      Class  No. 


COUNSEL  AND   COMFORT 


FROM  A  CITY  PULPIT. 


COUNSEL  AND   COMFORT? 


SPOKEN  FROM  A 


CITY    PULPIT. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OP 
"THE  RECREATIONS  OF  A  COUNTRY  PARSON." 


^> 

SJTiasifJ 


BOSTON: 
TICKNOR    AND     FIELDS. 

1864. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS: 
WELCH,   BIGELOW,   AND  COMPANY, 
CAMBRIDGE. 


CONTENTS. 


FAGS 
I.    CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME  ; 

WITH    SOME    THOUGHTS    ON   PULPITS        .  7 

II.     THANKFULNESS            .           .           .           .           .  27 

III.  THE    BLESSED    COMFORTER              ...  45 

IV.  MAN   COME    TO    HIMSELF              .           .           .     -  61 
V.    THE    WELL-GROUNDED  $HOPE          .           .           .  77 

VI.    NOTHING   WITHOUT    CHRIST      .           .            .  94 
VII.    THE   PROSPECT   PAINFUL   YET   SALUTARY  .  117 
VIII.    DEPARTED    TROUBLE   AND   WELCOME   REST  135 
IX.    CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST  OF  RELIGIOUS  PRO 
FESSION      .            .            .           ...           .  151 

X.     THE    DESIRE    TO    BE    REMEMBERED              .  169 

xi.  THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD  187 

XII.    CONSEQUENCES 206 

XIII.  NO   MORE   PAIN 223 

XIV.  THE    VICTORY   OVER   THE    WORLD          .            .  240 
XV.    THE   LIMITS    OF   HUMAN   EXPERIENCE       .  258 

XVI.    THE     PERSONALITY    AND    AGENCY    OF   EVIL 

SPIRITS 276 

XVII.    THE   NEEDFULNESS   OF   LOVE   TO   CHRIST  293 


I. 


CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME: 
WITH   SOME   THOUGHTS   ON  PULPITS. 

(OME,  my  friend,  and  let  us  walk  back 
wards  and  forwards  along  this  gravelled 
path,  already  beaten  by  my  solitary  feet 
for  an  hour  past.  It  is  not  a  carriage- 
drive,  but  a  path  intended  for  saunterers  on  foot.  It 
is  broad  enough  for  two,  and  the  more  especially 
if  one  of  them,  through  the  force  of  circumstances, 
chances  to  take  up  no  space.  And  to-day  you  are 
at  Constantinople,  and  I  am  here.  I  am  not  quite 
sure  as  to  the  precise  number  of  miles  between  us, 
but  there  are  many  hundreds,  I  know. 

You  know  this  place  well,  and  you  would  like  this 
walk.  On  one  hand,  there  is  a  level  plot  of  closely- 
mown  grass,  of  what  may  be  esteemed  considerable 
extent  by  a  man  of  moderate  ideas.  And  the  promi 
nent  object  on  that  side  is  a  pretty  Gothic  house,  built 
of  red  sandstone,  set  upon  a  green  terrace.  The  house 
is  backed  by  a  wooded  cliff :  a  cliff  wooded  from  base  to 
summit.  For  in  every  crevice  of  the  rock  trees  have 


8     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME  : 

rooted  themselves,  that  is,  have  been  planted  without 
man's  help.  And  the  cliff  looks  like  a  warm  bank  of 
thick  foliage,  now  crisp  and  russet.  That  cliff  is  ninety 
feet  high  :  no  very  great  height ;  yet,  let  me  say,  rather 
higher  than  the  rocks  at  the  Land's  End.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  there  is  our  great  sight.  On  the  other  side 
of  this  little  gravelled  walk,  which  is  a  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  in  length,  and  nearly  straight,  let  me  tell 
you  what  there  is.  First,  there  is  a  border  line  of 
grass,  the  prettiest  and  least  troublesome  of  all  edgings 
for  walks.  The  well-defined  outline  of  the  grass  and 
gravel  makes  a  simple  contrast  of  which  one  never 
tires.  Then  there  is  a  little  boundary  thicket  made  of 
pines  of  various  sizes,  also  of  laurels  and  yews  ;  with 
here  and  there  a  staring  sunflower.  Beyond,  there  is 
a  hedge  of  thorns,  backed  by  a  stone  wall,  five  feet  in 
height,  which  forms  the  boundary  of  this  small  domain. 
And  though  on  the  farther  side  of  the  wall  there  is 
a  narrow  public  road,  the  sea  beyond  it  seems  (when 
you  look  from  this  side)  to  wash  the  foot  of  that  for 
tification.  You  feel  as  though  you  were  walking 
on  a  quarter-deck.  In  fact,  the  waves  are  lapping 
on  the  large  stones  within  a  dozen  yards.  And  so, 
backwards  and  forwards  along  this  gravelled  path,  is 
backwards  and  forwards  by  the  shore  of  the  great  sea. 
Yet  this  is  not  the  boundless  ocean,  over  which  you 
look  away  and  away,  and  think  that  America  is  on  its 
other  side.  This  is  but  an  arm  of  the  Atlantic.  It  is 
the  estuary  of  a  river  not  especially  renowned  in  song. 


WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS  ON  PULPITS.  9 

No  poet  has  done  for  it  what  Burns  did  for  the  Doon 
by  which  he  drew  his  first  breath.  Here,  the  estuary 
is  four  miles  in  breadth.  On  the  farther  side  there  is 
an  island,  rich  in  soil  and  genial  in  climate,  where 
many  worn-out  sufferers  have  been  able  to  breathe 
out  in  peace  their  last  winter- time  in  this  world.  Its 
name  was  not  a  pleasing  one  to  those  English  folk 
who  hated  an  unpopular  Scotch  Prime  Minister,  many 
years  ago.  And  over  that  island  you  may  see  a  line 
of  mountain-peaks  which  will  bear  being  looked  at, 
though  you  may  have  come  straight  from  Chamouni. 
Of  course,  they  are  not  so  high  as  Mount  Blanc,  and 
they  have  no  solitudes  of  everlasting  snow.  Yet  that 
is  a  glorious  outline  against  the  western  sky,  at  sun 
set  or  at  midday ;  and  no  part  of  the  height  of  those 
mountains  is  lost.  For  the  height  of  mountains  is 
reckoned  in  feet  above  the  sea-level;  and  here  are 
the  sea-level  and  the  mountain-tops  together. 

This  is  an  autumn  afternoon,  one  of  the  latest  of 
September.  And  the  fkding  woods  suggest  to  one's 
mind  a  man  with  gray  hair,  wearing  down.  For  the 
autumnal  tint  upon  our  head  is  gray,  passing  into 
white.  We  do  not  wither  in  glory,  like  crimson 
maples  and  glowing  beeches  in  the  October  sun.  But 
to-day  there  is  not  the  bright,  crisp,  frosty  sunshine, 
touching  declining  Nature  into  pensive  beauty  ;  but 
the  light  is  leaden,  and  all  the  sky  is  made  up  of  clouds 
that  come  down  very  close  upon  the  earth  and  sea. 
The  sea  is  dark  and  gloomy,  and  it  breaks  upon  the 


10      CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME  : 

beach  with  a  surgy  murmur,  as  you  might  think  it 
would  upon  untrodden  shores. 

Our  holiday-time  ends  to-morrow  ;  and  then  comes 
the  long  stretch  of  work  again.  It  is  pleasant  work, 
but  hard  work ;  and  you  shrink  a  little  from  the  first 
plunge  into  it.  And  you  know  the  confused,  over 
driven  feeling  of  the  first  days  at  the  collar,  with 
twenty  things  you  would  wish  to  do  in  the  time  in 
which  it  is  possible  to  do  ten.  Holiday-time,  I  think, 
is  something  like  life.  We  begin  it,  witli  vague  antici 
pations  of  great  rest  and  enjoyment.  We  find  it,  in 
fact,  much  less  enjoyable  than  we  had  expected.  And 
at  its  end,  though  we  may  be  conscious  of  a  certain 
unwillingness  to  resume  our  load,  we  yet  feel  that 
our  holiday-time  is  outworn,  and  we  are  in  some  sort 
of  way  content  to  bid  it  good-bye.  Yet  it  is  a  trial  to 
say  good-bye  to  anything  ;  and  in  bidding  farewell  to 
times  and  places,  we  feel  that  we  shall  never  have 
those  things  again  quite  the  same.  Even  if  there 
should  come  to  none  of  us  any  of  those  great  changes 
which  hang  over  all  human  beings,  there  will  be  the 
sensible  change,  in  fact  and  in  feeling,  that  is  ever 
advancing  upon  all  persons  and  all  things  here.  Then, 
when  you  are  far  away  from  your  home  and  its  duties, 
all  these  come  to  look  somewhat  misty  and  undefined. 
You  forget  those  little  ways  which  make  up  your  hab 
itude  of  being.  And  all  future  time  is  hidden  by  a 
cloud  through  which  we  strive  in  vain  to  see.  You 
do  not  know  where  you  are  going,  nor  what  trials  may 


WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS   ON  PULPITS.          11 

be  sitting  and  waiting  for  you  by  the  wayside,  not  far 
on.  There  is  a  great  uncertainty,  and  an  indefinite 
fear.  You  have  had  your  troubles,  some  of  them  just 
as  heavy  as  you  could  bear  :  and  what  life  has  been,  it 
must  be.  And  many  minds  know  a  good  deal  of  the 
Roman  emperor's  foreboding,  that  if  things  have  long 
gone  well  with  you,  then  something  amiss  is  very  likely 
to  come.  If  we  could  but  all  rise  to  the  happier  argu 
ment  from  the  Past  to  the  Future  of  a  certain  ancient 
(and  inspired)  poet,  and  really  believe  that  "  the  Lord 
HATH  BEEN  mindful  of  us :  He  WILL  bless  us ! " 
The  more  common  way  of  judging  certainly  is,  that, 
since  all  has  been  so  pleasant  for  many  days  or  years, 
now  a  smash  is  due.  But  though  this  way  of  judging 
be  common,  and  though,  to  a  superficial  glance,  it 
seems  to  be  confirmed  by  facts,  it  would  be  very  easy 
to  show  that  it  is  entirely  wrong. 

There  is  something  enviable  in  the  state  of  people 
who  can  go  away  from  a  place  without  caring,  who 
can  say  good-bye  to  pleasant  acquaintances  without 
the  least  regret.  Many  human  beings  feel  parting  to 
be  so  painful,  that  they  would  rather  miss  the  previous 
pleasure  than  encounter  the  trial  which  must  come  at 
last.  You  will  think  of  the  kind  old  Matthew,  on  that 
beautiful  April  morning  of  which  Wordsworth  has  so 
sweetly  sung.  On  that  April  morning  he  was  not  an 
old  man ;  and  turning  aside  from  his  task  of  fishing, 
he  stopped  awhile  beside  his  little  daughter's  grave. 
And  having  thought  there  of  her  sweet  voice  and  her 


12     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME: 

fair  face,  he  turned  to  leave  her  earthly  resting-place ; 
when  he  met,  hard  by,  another  little  girl  like  what  his 
child  would  have  been,  so  blooming  and  so  happy. 
It  was  a  pure  delight  to  look  at  her;  but  Matthew 
thought  how  fragile  a  possession  she  would  be,  and  he 
remembered  how  bitterly  he  had  suffered  when  his 
own  child  died.  "  I  looked  at  her,  and  looked  again, 
and  did  not  wish  her  mine."  Yes,  what  you  never 
have,  you  never  can  lose.  And  some  grim  self-con 
tained  old  bachelor,  who  has  given  no  hostages  to 
fortune,  who  cares  for  nobody  but  himself,  presents 
but  a  very  small  surface  on  which  fate  can  hit  him 
hard. 

My  friend  Smith  told  me  recently,  that  he  esteems 
the  necessity  of  saying  good-bye  as  a  serious  draw 
back  from  the  pleasure  of  foreign  travel ;  and  that  his 
purpose  is,  in  future  tours,  to  cultivate,  when  abroad, 
the  acquaintance  of  only  the  most  disagreeable  of  his 
countrymen  and  countrywomen.  Then  he  will  ex 
perience  no  other  feeling  than  one  of  relief  when  they 
disappear  from  his  view,  never  to  return.  Hitherto, 
his  experience  has  been  as  follows.  You  fall  in  with 
pleasant  people  going  the  same  way  with  yourself. 
You  find  that  great  part  of  the  insular  reserve  has 
been  thawed  out  of  the  usually  shy  Briton.  Gradu 
ally,  you  fraternize ;  and  for  a  good  many  days  those 
pleasant  folk  and  you  journey  on  together.  You  think 
better  of  mankind :  you  did  not  think  there  were  so 
many  agreeable  people  in  the  world.  Probably  you 


WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS   ON  PULPITS.  13 

are  not  accustomed  to  see  many  such  at  Tollerporco- 
rum.  But  at  length  you  must  go  on  your  separate 
ways,  and  you  part,  feeling  it  is  not  likely  that  you 
should  meet  again.  And  to  do  all  this  six  or  seven 
times  in  two  months  is  trying. 

All  this,  it  is  obvious,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
subject  of  Pulpits.  Yet  that  subject  was  mainly  in 
the  writer's  mind  when  he  began  to  walk  up  and 
down  this  gravelled  path.  All  this  forenoon  he  has 
been  busied  in  arranging  the  material  which  has  been 
spoken  on  various  past  Sundays,  from  a  certain  pul 
pit  in  which  he  feels  a  very  deep  interest.  A  former 
volume  of  the  like  material  has  been  so  happy  as  to 
find  a  very  great  number  of  readers  ;  and  naturally 
enough,  another  volume  of  sermons  preached  from 
the  same  place  has  been  thought  of.  Thinking  of  that 
pulpit  made  him  think  of  pulpits  in  general,  and  es 
pecially  of  yours,  my  friend,  who  have  all  this  while 
been  walking  more  or  less  consciously  by  my  side. 

Your  pulpit  is  a  very  handsome  one  of  carved  oak, 
dark  with  age.  It  stands  out,  clear  of  the  chancel,  in 
a  certain  great  church.  The  church  is  not  Gothic, 
but  it  is  one  of  the  best  of  Palladian  churches  :  great 
in  size,  massive  and  real  in  the  materials  of  which  it 
is  made ;  with  its  great  pillars  and  its  arched  aisles. 
I  am  not  able  to  suppress  an  unsophisticated  respect 
for  an  edifice  on  which  its  builders  were  content  to 
spend  several  scores  of  thousands  of  pounds.  And  all 
around  that  church,  though  it  stands  in  the  heart  of 


14     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME  : 

the  greatest  of  great  cities,  there  spreads  a  solemn  ex 
panse,  pleasant  to  see,  where  people  of  many  genera 
tions  have  met  together,  in  the  long  sleep  of  death. 
Above  all,  that  church  is  suited  with  a  congregation 
that  fills  it  with  attentive  faces  and  sympathetic 
hearts  ;  and  fond  as  one  may  pardonably  be  of  church 
architecture,  the  great  thing  about  a  church  is  the 
living  congregation,  after  all.  Then  your  predecessor 
in  that  pulpit  wears  lawn  sleeves ;  and  the  average 
mind  feels  as  though  a  certain  dignity  were  cast 
around  the  pulpit  whence  the  next  step  was  to  the 
episcopal  throne. 

The  writer  has  various  predecessors  in  his  pulpit. 
None  of  them  are  bishops  :  none  can  by  possibility 
become  such :  because  they  are  clergymen  of  a  Church 
in  which  those  dignitaries  are  not.  As  for  the  pulpit, 
I  do  not  know  of  what  kind  of  wood  it  is  made, 
though  I  have  preached  from  it  exactly  three  hundred 
and  fifty  times.  Of  this  I  am  well  assured,  that  it  is 
not  made  of  the  wood  it  seems.  The  painter's  skill 
has  made  it  look  like  oak,  which  it  unquestionably 
is  not.  I  have  heard,  indeed,  of  church  oak  in  this 
country  being  ingeniously  painted  in  a  bad  imitation 
of  itself.  The  pulpit  is  hung  with  a  pretty  deep 
drapery  of  crimson  velvet,  a  little  faded  from  the 
brightness  of  earlier  days.  And  no  wonder :  for  the 
writer  is  faded  somewhat  through  the  wear  of  years  ; 
and  that  velvet  is  older  than  himself. 

But  he  would  not  exchange  that  faded  velvet  for 


WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS  ON  PULPITS.          15 

many  times  what  it. cost  when  new;  and  though  that 
pulpit  is  not  Gothic,  except  in  the  unfriendly  sense  in 
which  Sir  Christopher  Wren  first  applied  the  word, 
there  is  to  him,  as  to  very  many  of  his  fathers  and 
brethren,  no  place  on  earth  where  he  likes  so  much 
to  be.  We  have  a  Scotticism  of  expression,  common 
among  the  elder  clergy,  which  always  falls  pleasantly 
on  the  ear.  "  Where  are  you  to  be  on  Sunday  ?  "  say 
to  a  good  Scotch  minister ;  and  the  answer  will  prob 
ably  be,  "  AT  HOME."  That  means,  in  his  own  pul 
pit.  There  is  something  very  touching,  when  you 
hear  an  old  man  thus  speak  of  the  place  whence  he 
has  spoken,  on  the  most  solemn  of  all  subjects,  to 
immortal  beings  committed  to  his  care,  through  the 
Sundays  of  forty  years.  Yes  :  it  is  there,  indeed,  that 
we  ought  all  of  us  to  be  most  at  home.  I  need  say  to 
none  of  my  kindly  readers,  that  I  think  a  clergyman 
may  very  fitly  write  and  speak  upon  subjects  not 
directly  theological  or  religious.  He  may  very  prop 
erly  write  an  article  for  Fraser,  and  no  one  for  whose 
opinion  he  cares  a  rush  will  find  fault.  But  all  these 
things  are  as  recreation :  what  he  writes  for  the  pul 
pit  is  work.  All  these  things  are  excursions,  are  as 
holiday  rambles  ;  but  in  the  pulpit  he  is  at  home. 
His  first  and  best  thoughts  go  THERE.  And  often 
entered  with  a  nervous  feeling  not  to  be  reasoned 
away,  —  never  entered  without  a  solemn  prayer  for 
God's  help  and  blessing,  —  the  pulpit  of  every  cler 
gyman  whose  heart  is  in  his  work  is  surrounded  by 


16     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME: 

memories  and  associations  of  such  heart  and  happi 
ness  as  are  not  to  be  expressed  in  words. 

The  pulpit  (let  the  word  be  understood  physically 
and  morally)  has  been  to  the  writer  a  matter  of  spe 
cial  interest  from  his  earliest  days.  Very  many  are 
the  pulpits  in  which  he  has  stood.  He  does  not  mean 
for  the  purpose  of  preaching  from  them.  But  he  can 
not  enter  any  church,  great  or  small,  on  a  day  when 
it  may  be  surveyed  freely,  without  ascending  the  pul 
pit  and  looking  at  the  church  from  that  elevation.  It 
may  be  said,  for  the  information  of  such  as  have  never 
entered  any  pulpit,  that  a  church,  viewed  from  that 
point,  looks  entirely  different  from  what  it  looks  being 
viewed  from  any  other.  And,  as  a  general  rule,  the 
church  looks  a  great  deal  larger. 

Nothing  brings  out  more  strongly  the  difference  in 
the  tastes  and  likings  of  different  men  than  their  feel 
ing  as  to  the  pulpit.  Some,  a  lesser  class,  feel  an 
invincible  gravitation  towards  the  place,  an  extreme 
interest  in  all  that  concerns  it.  There  are  men  who, 
being  far  away  from  home,  and  going  to  a  strange 
church  on  a  Sunday,  are, aware  of  a  longing,  almost 
like  the  thirsty  wayfarer's  for  drink,  to  mount  the 
pulpit  and  pour  forth  the  message  with  which  they 
are  charged,  to  their  fellow-sinners.  As  for  the  great 
majority  of  educated  men,  not  to  mention  women,  the 
pulpit  is  the  very  last  place  of  which  they  ever  think 
in  relation  to  themselves.  Not  merely  have  they  no 


WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS  ON  PULPITS.          17 

desire  to  enter  it,  they  have  never  even  gone  the 
length  of  asking  themselves  whether  they  would  like 
to  enter  it  or  not.  The  whole  thing  appears  quite  out 
of  the  question.  You  and  I,  rny  reader,  have  probably 
never  seriously  considered  whether  we  should  like  to 
be  Prime  Minister.  And  more :  men  who  have  chosen 
the  Church  for  their  profession,  or  rather  who  have 
been  pushed  gradually  into  orders  without  any  con 
scious  choice,  having  actually  tried  the  pulpit,  found 
it  did  not  suit  them,  did  not  suit  their  tastes,  even 
where  it  was  conspicuously  suited  to  their  abilities  : 
and  so  have  made  up  their  mind  not  to  enter  it  any 
more.  The  writer  has  a  very  eminent  and  illustrious 
friend,  who,  having  preached  three  or  four  times, 
found  or  fancied  that  the  pulpit  did  not  suit  him,  and 
renounced  it.  Yet  the  pathetic  eloquence  which  he 
has  at  command,  and  a  charm  of  style  which  would 
constrain  most  people  to  listen  in  breathless  attention 
to  him  discoursing  upon  any  subject,  would  assuredly 
have  made  him  one  of  the  most  interesting  of  all 
preachers.  But  the  whole  thing  did  not  suit  him : 
the  proof  being  that  lie  was  content  to  give  it  up. 
The  man  who  has  in  him  the  spirit  and  making  of 
the  preacher,  could  not  be  kept  out  of  the  pulpit. 
Not  the  railway  and  the  locomotive  have  greater 
affinity  one  to  the  other  than  that  singular  elevation 
and  he.  Men  have  been  great  and  wise  there,  who 
were  weak  and  foolish  everywhere  else.  "  He  ought 
to  be  definitively  confirmed  to  the  pulpit,  and  fed  over 


18     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME  : 

the  side  of  it  with  brose  and  kirn-milk,"  said  the 
homely  Chalmers  of  a  certain  man  who  in  the  pulpit 
was  a  great  orator,  and  out  of  the  pulpit  a  great  fool. 
And  worldly  inducements  go  for  very  little  here,  if 
the  true  nature  of  the  preacher  be  inherent.  You 
have  heard  of  men  who  renounced  fame  and  for 
tune  heartily  and  cheerfully,  that  they  might  devote 
strength  and  life  to  the  sacred  office,  who  made  their 
choice,  perhaps,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  early  youth, 
but  never  lived  to  regret  it  though  they  lived  to  four 
score. 

The  essential  characteristic  of  the  Pulpit  is  this  : 
that  it  should  be  an  elevated  place  in  a  church, 
whence  the  preacher  may  address  the  congregation. 
Let  me,  in  passing,  express  the  great  disapproval  with 
which  I  sometimes  hear  a  Christian  congregation  spo 
ken  of  as  an  audience :  a  good  audience  meaning  a 
large  congregation ;  a  bad  audience,  or  a  thin  audience, 
meaning  a  small  congregation.  There  is,  indeed,  a 
lower  deep  than  this :  it  is  to  speak  of  a  crowded 
house,  meaning  a  congregation  which  fills  its  church. 
Let  not  phrases  taken  from  the  theatre  or  the  lecture- 
room  be  used  concerning  the  house  of  God.  But  to 
resume.  There  are  countries,  as  everybody  knows, 
where  the  pulpit  is  essentially  and  exclusively  asso 
ciated  with  the  sermon.  There  are  others,  and  there 
is  one  in  particular  very  well  known  to  the  writer,  in 
whose  National  Church  prayers  and  sermon  are  spo- 


WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS  ON  PULPITS.          19 

ken  from  the  same  place,  and,  save  at  the  celebration 
of  the  Holy  Communion,  the  entire  church-service  is 
performed  from  that  spot.  Yet  even  in  that  country 
the  name  of  the  pulpit  naturally  suggests  the  sermon. 
And  what  varieties  there  are  of  the  thing !  You 
have  possibly  seen  pulpits  of  all  degrees,  from  the  huge 
erection  piled  up  against  a  pillar  in  the  nave  of  a  great 
foreign  cathedral,  —  an  erection  which  must  dwarf  the 
preacher,  and  which  in  fact  is  seldom  used,  —  down 
to  the  rickety  box  of  deal  stuck  against  the  wall  of  a 
little  Scotch  country  church,  unpainted  and  undraped 
and  worm-eaten.  Even  from  such  a  pulpit  has  the 
writer  not  unfrequently  preached,  sometimes  to  coun 
try  folk  whose  intelligent  and  hearty  attention  made 
one  forget  the  unworthy  edifice  which  was  esteemed 
good  enough  for  the  worship  of  Almighty  God.  Once 
upon  a  time,  in  a  certain  rural  parish,  such  was  the 
writer's  own  pulpit :  but  of  course  that  would  not  do ; 
and  a  little  representation  in  the  right  quarter  soon 
made  it  give  place  to  decorous  dark  oak  and  crimson. 
Let  me  say,  that  I  cannot  understand  those  clergymen 
who  do  not  care  a  whit  how  shabby  their  church  may 
be,  and  who  contrive,  as  I  have  witnessed,  to  provide 
the  parish  with  a  most  elegant  and  comfortable  par 
sonage,  leaving  the  poor  old  church  a  mortifying  con 
trast  of  dirt  and  squalor.  Then  there  are  pulpits 
of  wood  and  of  stone :  the  latter  sometimes  of  one 
block  of  freestone,  gracefully  carved  over  its  surface, 
like  that  beautiful  pulpit  in  the  cathedral  of  Chester ; 


20     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME: 

sometimes  of  marble,  a  costly  piece  of  inlaid  work, 
like  that  elaborate  pulpit  at  All  Saints  in  London  ; 
sometimes  resting  on  a  clustered  shaft  of  porphyry  or 
granite,  and  displaying  panels  enriched  with  figures  in 
high  relief,  like  that  most  pleasing  pulpit  at  St.  Anne's 
in  Dublin.  Sometimes  those  stone  pulpits  are  warm 
ly  padded  inside  with  crimson  cloth ;  sometimes  they 
are  cold  white  marble  within,  unrelieved  by  a  vestige 
of  drapery,  very  chilling  to  look  at  and  (one  would 
say)  to  preach  from.  Sometimes  pulpits  are  very 
high ;  sometimes  ostentatiously  low  :  in  the  latter  case 
in  churches  in  England,  where  the  childish  idea  has 
been  admitted,  that  to  make  the  pulpit  loftier  than  the 
reading-desk  is  to  "  elevate  the  place  of  preaching 
above  the  place  of  prayer."  Sometimes  the  pulpit 
proper  is  lost  in  a  huge  erection  of  stairs  and  terraces 
and  platforms  and  ugly  iron  railings,  filling  up  the  end 
of  a  church  in  which  there  is  no  altar,  as  though  to 
announce  to  all  comers,  Here  the  sermon  is  the  first 
thing.  Sometimes  it  is  a  little  projecting  jug  of  stone, 
in  a  modest  corner,  as  though  to  say,  Here  the  sermon 
is  no  great  matter.  And,  to  say  the  truth,  in  such 
cases  it  generally  is  no  great  matter.  I  could  easily 
name  a  church  where  I  have  been  present  at  a  choral 
service  performed  by  forty  surpliced  choristers  with 
admirable  taste  and  skill,  and  where  the  sermon 
which  followed,  though  short,  was  extremely  tedious, 
and  in  fact  was  so  bad  that  it  could  not  by  possibility 
have  been  worse.  Sometimes  you  may  find  a  stone 


WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS  ON  PULPITS.          21 

pulpit  in  the  open  air,  as  that  at  Magdalen  College  at 
Oxford,  whence  the  university  sermons  were  sometimes 
preached.  There  is  in  England  a  parish  church  where 
the  pulpit  consists  of  a  velvet-covered  easy-chair,  with 
a  music-stand  placed  in  front  of  it.  The  builders  of 
that  church  are  recorded  to  have  resolved  to  erect  a 
church  which  no  human  being,  on  a  cursory  inspec 
tion,  would  take  to  be  a  church ;  and  they  have  to  a 
great  degree  succeeded  in  their  intelligent  purpose. 
We  have  all  heard  of  "  Henley's  gilt  tub,"  whence  that 
fluent  mountebank  gave  his  celebrated  lecture  on  the 
way  to  make  a  pair  of  shoes  in  five  minutes.  A  great 
crowd  of  shoemakers  assembled,  drawn  by  the  an 
nouncement  of  a  discourse  which  would  have  been 
to  them  of  such  practical  value ;  but  the  shoemakers 
were  conscious  that  they  had  been  deluded  when  the 
orator  produced  a  pair  of  boots,  and  in  five  minutes 
cut  off  their  tops  and  left  them  shoes.  There  have 
been  preachers  who  eschewed  the  pulpit,  prefer 
ring  a  large  stage  on  which  they  might  strut  to  and 
fro.  The  writer  has  never  seen  any  of  these,  and 
never  will  see  any  of  them.  There  is  a  vile  custom, 
which  originated  in  Chaldea,  but  which  has  been 
introduced  into  several  places  of  worship  in  this  coun 
try,  of  substituting  for  the  pulpit  a  considerable  plat 
form,  provided  with  a  sofa,  and  having  a  counter  in 
front,  behind  which  the  preacher  stands.  An  Eng 
lish  traveller,  having  entered  a  large  building  in  that 
country,  perceived  such  an  erection  at  one  end  of  it. 


22     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME  : 

A  great  congregation  had  assembled.  In  a  little,  a 
human  being,  with  a  hat  on  his  head  and  a  great 
coat  on  his  back,  walked  up  the  centre  passage.  Stop 
ping  at  the  foot  of  the  stair,  he  got  out  of  his  great 
coat  and  took  off  his  hat ;  and  then,  ascending  the 
platform,  appeared  to  be  the  individual  who  was  to 
conduct  the  service.  Some  people,  no  doubt,  think 
all  this  simple  and  unaffected.  Some  people  would 
doubtless  agree  with  the  writer  in  esteeming  it  irrev 
erent  and  disgusting  in  a  very  high  degree.  Yet  let 
me  recall  a  horrid  Scotch  custom,  seen  in  my  youth, 
of  the  officiating  clergyman  hanging  up  his  hat  on  a 
peg  beneath  the  sounding-board  of  the  pulpit,  to  re 
main  there  till  the  service  was  over.  For  a  bishop,  or 
a  preacher  in  a  cathedral,  to  lay  his  cap  on  the  cushion 
before  him,  is  all  very  well,  but  a  hat,  not  unfre- 
quently  a  very  bad  one,  hung  on  a  peg,  can  never 
look  seemly  or  decorous.  There  is  a  reprehensible 
and  offensive  taste  for  the  tawdry  in  the  matter  of 
pulpit  decoration  in  several  quarters  in  Scotland. 
In  some  instances  this  might  be  justified  by  the 
consideration  that  the  pulpit  is  thus  brought  into 
harmony  with  the  discourse  which  is  delivered  from 
it.  I  have  beheld  a  pulpit  of  white  and  gold ; 
another,  painted  light  green ;  another,  which  was  of  a 
roseate  hue.  If  people  cannot  see  how  unbecoming 
that  kind  of  thing  is,  it  is  quite  useless  to  try  to 
show  them.  The  right  pulpit,  in  ordinary  cases,  and 
where  expense  is  a  consideration,  is  doubtless  a  plain 


WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS  ON  PULPITS.  23 

hexagonal  or  octagonal  pulpit  of  oak.  •  Let  its  color 
be  always  dark,  and  its  drapery  always  crimson.  Let 
the  stair  be  not  obtrusive.  As  a  general  rule,  let 
there  be  a  sounding-board.  It  is  usually  of  no  use, 
but  there  is  a  fitness  in  its  aspect,  and  it  helps  to 
make  the  pulpit,  as  it  ought  to  be,  utterly  unlike  any 
erection  for  any  secular  purpose.  You  should  feel, 
as  you  look  at  the  thing,  that  it  is  a  place  which 
renders  essential  a  certain  quietude  and  restraint  of 
matter  and  manner  in  all  that  may  be  said  from  it. 
I  have  heard  a  very  eminent  preacher  say,  that  you 
may  fitly  give  your  sermon  with  all  the  energy  you 
can  display  without  lifting  a  hand,  but  that  any 
gesticulation  appeared  to  him  unsuited  to  the  pulpit. 
I  do  not  agree  with  him,  though  I  believe  his  rule 
tends  to  the  better  and  safer  extreme.  And  let  me 
say  that  even  the  utmost  dulness  appears  preferable 
to  the  outrageous  claptrap  which  one  sometimes  hears 
reported.  All  jocular  matter  is  of  course  inadmissi 
ble  ;  all  bitter  and  sarcastic  remarks  are  unutterably 
offensive.  I  lately  read  in  a  country  newspaper  an 
account  of  a  discourse  given  upon  some  occasion  by 
a  certain  preacher.  In  that  discourse,  the  country 
newspaper  said,  the  preacher  "  showed  himself  a 
master  of  wit  and  sarcasm."  Without  having  heard 
the  man,  one  can  imagine  the  hateful  exhibition. 
Controversial  statements,  too,  are  to  be  avoided. 
The  things  spoken  from  the  pulpit  should  be  those 
as  to  which  the  whole  congregation  is,  at  least  in 


24     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME  : 

speculation,  agreed.  It  is  inexpedient  that  the 
preacher  should  make  strong  statements  which  half 
his  hearers  will  esteem  to  be  absurd  and  false.  And  if 
such  statements  be  wrong  in  the  sermon,  much  more 
are  they  in  the  prayers.  I  have  heard  of  an  eminent 
Scotch  divine  who  in  his  prayer  before  sermon  begged 
the  Almighty  "  to  remit  the  judgments  which  might 
well  be  sent  upon  this  country  on  account  of  that 
legislative  measure  most  improperly  called  the  Reform 
Bill."  Such  a  petition  enables  one  the  better  to  un 
derstand  the  unconscious  truthfulness  of  a  statement 
lately  published  in  a  Russian  journal.  That  journal 
declared,  in  all  good  faith,  that  the  prayer  offered  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Smith  on  a  certain  occasion,  was  "  the 
most  eloquent  prayer  ever  addressed  TO  A  Moscow 

AUDIENCE/' 

As  for  the  matter  spoken  from  the  pulpit,  I  do  not 
hesitate  to  say,  that,  if  it  be  simple,  earnest,  and  un 
affected,  it  ought,  as  a  'general  rule,  to  be  exempted 
from  all  criticism.  I  speak,  of  course,  not  of  published 
discourses,  but  of  those  which  are  preached  in  the 
ordinary  course  of  duty.  A  clever  writer  in  a  literary 
paper  lately  maintained  that  it  would  waken  up  the 
members  of  a  comatose  profession  if  the  preaching 
of  a  sermon  were  held  to  be  its  publication,  and  if 
thereupon  it  might  be  subjected  to  the  like  unceremo 
nious  treatment  with  other  published  literary  produc 
tions.  That  clever  writer  said  that  good  would  follow 
if  we  were  occasionally  to  read  in  some  critical  jour- 


fl     v 

WITH  SOME  THOUGHTS   ON  PULPIT%^    2< 

nal  an  article  which  should  begin  by  saying 
Sunday  the  Rev.  Mr.  Log  ascended  his  pulpit, 
preached  in  his  usual  dull  arid  stupid  fashion ; "  and  if 
the  article  then  proceeded  to  show  in  detail  the  bad 
ness  of  Mr.  Log's  reasoning,  the  infelicity  of  his  illus 
trations,  and  his  general  unfitness  to  instruct  his 
fellow-men.  I  venture  to  differ  from  the  clever  writer 
already  spoken  of.  It  is  conceivable  that  the  homely 
discourse,  though  it  did  not  please  a  sharp  critic  going 
to  hear  the  preacher  for  one  day,  might  yet  do  good 
to  the  people  for  whom  it  was  written,  who  went  to 
be  instructed  rather  than  to  criticise,  and  who  knew 
by  long  experience  the  faithfulness  and  diligence  of 
the  good  man  who  preached  it.  Religious  instruction 
need  not  be  brilliant,  nor  eloquent,  nor  original,  to 
serve  very  effectually  the  great  end  at  which  all 
worthy  religious  instruction  aims.  And  that  end,  it 
"  may  be  said,  is  not  to  satisfy  a  chance  reviewer  who 
has  dropped  into  church  by  accident,  but  to  benefit 
and  comfort  the  congregation  which  habitually  wor 
ships  there. 

Yet  it  may  be  recorded  for  the  gratification  of  such 
as  may  differ  from  me,  that  there  are  localities  in 
which  a  system  is  carried  out  which  subjects  relig 
ious  instruction  to  a  severe  censorship.  I  recently 
read  the  advertisement  of  an  enterprising  bookseller, 
which  said,  that,  with  the  view  of  inducing  children  to 
take  more  interest  in  going  to  church,  the  bookseller 
had  prepared  a  series  of  printed  schedules,  which 


26     CONCERNING  THE  CLOSE  OF  HOLIDAY-TIME. 

might  be  purchased  in  a  form  like  that  of  a  bank 
check-book.  On  each  Sunday  morning  the  child 
might  be  supplied  with  a  schedule  torn  out  of  this 
book,  and  with  a  pencil.  And  while  in  church,  the 
child  might  note  down,  upon  blank  spaces  provided, 
the  preacher's  name,  his  text,  the  way  in  which  he 
handled  his  subject,  and  some  appreciation  of  his 
voice  and  manner :  whether  good,  bad,  or  indifferent. 
A  friend  of  mine  saw  one  such  schedule  after  it  had 
been  filled  up  by  a  boy  of  ten  years  old.  Under  the 
head  of  Manner,  the  youthful  critic  had  written  the 
words,  MIGHT  BE  IMPROVED.  Probably  the  province 
of  criticism  could  hardly  be  extended  farther.  You 
can  imagine  how  much  likelihood  there  is  that  a  child 
trained  to  go  to  church  in  such  a  spirit  would  ever  be 
impressed  or  improved  by  sermons  listened  to  for  the 
purpose  of  passing  judgment  upon  them.  And  you 
can  imagine  how  that  child,  having  grown  up,  would 
develop  into  the  human  being  who  would  employ  that 
unutterably  hateful  expression  which  people  in  Amer 
ica  employ  when  they  desire  to  praise  their  preacher : 
the  expression,  to  wit,  that  he  is  a  preacher  who 

GIVE.S    SATISFACTION. 

So  let  us  turn  away  from  the  leaden  sky  and  the 
sullen  waves.  They  will  be  oftentimes  blue  and 
bright  before  we  see  them  again. 


II. 


THANKFULNESS. 

"Be  ye  thankful."  —  COL.  iii.  15. 

HERE  is  a  picturesque  tract  of  the  West 
ern  Highlands  of  Scotland,  in  passing 
through  which  the  traveller  has  to  ascend 
a  long,  winding  path,  very  steep,  very 
rough,  and  very  lonely,  leading  up  a  wild  and  desolate 
glen.  The  savage  and  awful  grandeur  of  the  scenery, 
with  its  bare  hills  and  rocks,  is  hardly  equalled  in  this 
country.  But  if  the  traveller  goes  up  that  glen  on 
foot  (and  it  is  hardly  possible  to  go  up  it  otherwise), 
his  appreciation  of  the  scene  around  him  is  gradually 
overborne  by  the  sense  of  pure  physical  fatigue.  Not 
without  a  great  strain  upon  limbs  and  heart  can  that 
rugged  way  be  traversed.  At  last  you  reach  a  ridge 
whence  the  road  descends  steeply  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hill.  You  have  ended  your  climbing,  and  you 
may  now  begin  to  go  down  again,  from  whichever  side 
you  come.  And  there,  at  this  summit,  you  will  find 
a  rude  seat  of  stone,  which  bears  the  inscription,  in 
deeply-cut  letters,  REST  AND  BE  THANKFUL.  Many 


28  THANKFULNESS. 

weary  travellers  have  rested  there  :  let  us  trust  that 
a  good  many  have  been  thankful. 

We  all  know  that  the  like  name  has  been  given  to 
more  than  one  or  two  like  resting-places ;  that  it  is 
borne  by  various  seats,  at  the  top  of  various  steep 
ascents  in  this  country.  There  is  something  pleasing, 
and  something  touching,  in  the  simple  natural  piety 
which  has  dictated  the  homely  name.  He  was  a  hea 
then  who  said  it,  but  he  spoke  well  who  said,  "  Where 
soever  man  feels  himself  in  peace  and  rest,  let  him 
think  of  God,  and  give  thanks  to  Him."  I  have 
no  doubt  at  all  that  St.  Paul  would  have  heartily 
approved  that  inscription  in  Glencroe,  and  would 
have  felt  that  there  is  something  to  warm  the  heart 
when  the  solitary  traveller  finds  in  that  lonely  place, 
without  a  human  dwelling  or  a  human  being  near, 
the  brief  reminder  of  the  presence  and  the  goodness 
of  Him  who  is  present  as  much  in  the  wild  waste  as 
in  the  peopled  city,  and  from  whose  mercy  all  our 
blessings  come,  whether  small  or  great :  from  the  few 
minutes'  breathing-space  in  the  Highland  glen,  up 
to  the  last  unspeakable  gift  of  His  Son  to  die  for  us, 
and  His  Blessed  Spirit  to  sanctify  and  console.  For 
you  see  the  comprehensive  duty  which  is  enjoined  in 
the  few  words  of  the  text.  The  great  Apostle  would 
impress  upon  those  Christians  of  Colosse,  who  have 
ceased  from  their  work  and  warfare  through  so  many 
centuries  now,  how  many  things  those  should  seek  to 
do  who  trust  they  are  "  risen  with  Christ."  There  is 


THANKFULNESS.  29 

a  long  list  of  Christian  duties  in  this  chapter  in 
which  the  text  stands.  There  is  sketched  out  a  char 
acter  and  a  life  which,  if  manifested  and  led  by  all 
who  bear  the  Christian  name,  would  make  this  world 
a  very  holy  and  a  very  happy  place.  St.  Paul  tells 
the  Colossians  how  they  ought  to  "  set  their  affection 
on  things  above " ;  how  they  ought  to  mortify  the 
evil  impulses  of  a  fallen,  though  renewed  nature,  — 
putting  off  anger,  malice,  falsehood,  and  every  evil 
word  and  deed,  and  putting  on  the  new  man,  in  which 
God's  holy  image  is  restored.  He  bids  them  put  on, 
as  becomes  the  elect  of  God,  mercy,  kindness,  humil 
ity,  meekness,  long-suffering:  he  bids  them  forbear 
and  forgive,  even  as  the  kind  Redeemer  forgave :  he 
bids  them  put  on  charity,  as  a  robe  that  should  take  in 
every  Christian  virtue  and  grace :  and  he  bids  them 
let  God's  peace  rule  in  their  hearts.  And  then,  like 
a  link  in  this  golden  chain,  like  a  cope-stone  on  this 
beautiful  structure,  comes  the  short  text  with  its  wide 
and  large  meaning :  which  tells  us  of  one  pervading 
principle  and  affection  which  should  leaven  the  be 
liever's  whole  heart  and  life  ;  which  reminds  us  how 
there  should  go  with  him,  everywhere,  the  deep  sense 
that  there  is  an  unseen  hand  that  gives  him  all  he 
receives  ;  the  deep  sense  that  he  is  a  weak,  dependent, 
undeserving  creature,  meriting  so  little  and  receiving 
so  much  ;  "  loaded  with  benefits,"  "  prevented  with 
the  blessings  of  God's  goodness;"  remembered  with 
u  compassions  that  fail  not,"  but  are  "  new  every  morn- 


30  THANKFULNESS. 

ing ; "  even  afflicted,  when  afflicted  at  all,  unwillingly, 
and  in  faithfulness  and  love.  Remember  all  these 
other  duties,  the  great  Apostle  seems  to  say;  but 
never  forget  this :  "  Be  ye  thankful ! " 

We  have  heard  of  things  and  people  being  conspic 
uous  by  their  absence.  And  I  think  you  will  feel, 
kiy  friends,  that  there  is  a  certain  Name,  which  is  not 
mentioned  in  my  text,  which  by  its  omission  is  only 
the  more  solemnly  and  impressively  suggested  to  us. 
Yes,  the  meaning  which  is  hinted,  which  is  suggested 
and  implied  but  not  expressed,  is  sometimes  for  that 
only  the  more  effectually  conveyed.  And  as  with  the 
inscription  on  the  stone  seat,  so  with  the  precept 
which  forms  my  text:  there  is  something  very  strik 
ing  in  what  is  omitted,  as  well  as  in  what  is  said. 
"  Rest  and  be  thankful,"  says  the  stone  in  the  High 
land  glen:  "Be  ye  thankful,"  says  St.  Paul  to  the 
Christians  of  Colosse.  It  is  not  said  to  whom  we  are 
to  be  thankful.  There  is  a  touch  of  natural  piety  in 
the  fact  that  that  does  not  need  to  be  said.  That  is 
taken  for  granted  !  We  all  know  Who  it  is  that  is 
the  Giver  of  ALL  good ;  and  when  we  are  told,  gener 
ally,  to  be  thankful,  of  course  we  know  to  Whom ! 
Resting  at  the  summit  of  the  mountain-path,  it  is  not 
to  the  man  who  erected  that  seat  for  the  weary  travel 
ler  ;  though  it  is  fit  and  right  that  he  should  be  kindly 
thought  of  while  we  are  enjoying  the  effect  of  his 
work,  yet  we  are  to  look  beyond  him  to  a  cause 
above  him.  He  erected  that  seat,  acting  (as  it  were) 


THANKFULNESS.  31 

for  God :  every  mortal  who  does  a  kind  and  good 
deed,  in  a  right  spirit,  is  acting  for  God,  and  in  God's 
name :  and  he  went  away  when  his  work  was 
done,  asking  of  the  wayfarer,  putting  his  request  on 
record  with  a  pen  of  iron  upon  the  stone,  —  that,  for 
whatever  comfort  and  rest  might  be  experienced 
there,  the  wayfarer  might  bestow  his  thanks  in  the 
right  quarter.  And  St.  Paul  does  just  the  same ! 
Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  years  since,  just  the  same ! 
He  says  no  more  than  this,  "  Be  ye  thankful ; "  as  one 
who  felt  that  those  he  addressed  would  know  as  well 
as  himself  what  is  the  kind  Hand  from  which  all 
blessings  flow ! 

"  I  am  very  thankful,"  says  the  poor  invalid,  who 
amid  great  suffering  is  permitted  a  little  blink  of 
ease.  "  I  can  never  be  thankful  enough,"  the  parent 
says,  when  told  that  his  little  child  has  weathered  the 
worst,  that  the  crisis  of  disease  is  past,  and  that  the 
little  thing  is  to  be  spared.  "  Oh  for  a  more  thankful 
heart,"  the  Christian  has  many  a  time  said,  going  out 
from  church  on  a  communion  Sabbath,  when  the 
Saviour  has  been  very  plainly  present  at  His  table, 
and  the  Blessed  Holy  Spirit  has  breathed  warmly 
upon  the  heart,  and  when  some  little  of  Christ's  love, 
and  Christ's  peace,  has  been  felt  and  known.  You 
do  not  ask  such  people  to  whom  they  are  thankful ! 
Oh,  there  is  but  One !  One,  who  is  the  Giver  of  every 
good  gift,  and  to  Whom  all  gratitude  tends  at  the 
last.  There  may  be  steps,  as  it  were,  on  the  way  up 


32  THANKFULNESS. 

to  Him,  —  kind  human  friends,  and  happy  second 
causes,  —  but  it  all  comes  to  Him  in  the  end.  If  the 
kindly  medicine  did  it ;  if  the  bracing  breeze  did  it ; 
if  the  cheerful,  hopeful  word  from  a  loving  heart  did 
it ;  oh,  it  was  God  that  did  it  all !  Yes,  all  gratitude 
runs  up  to  Him :  to  Him  as  manifested  in  our  Blessed 
Saviour's  face.  No  need  for  the  rough  seat  amid  the 
heather  to  say,  "  Rest,  and  be  thankful  to  God ;  "  no 
need  for  St.  Paul  to  tell  us,  "  Be  ye  thankful  to  God" 
We  all  know  that.  There  is  none  good  but  One. 
There  is  one  Giver  of  all  good ! 

There  are  indeed  many  places  where  St.  Paul 
speaks  out  his  meaning  fully,  tells  it  all  in  so  many 
words.  "  Thanks  be  unto  God,"  he  says,  "  for  His 
unspeakable  gift."  "  Thanks  be  unto  God,  who  giveth 
us  the  victory,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  And 
cheered  in  an  anxious  time  by  the  sight  of  Christian 
friends,  Paul  "  thanked  God,  and  took  courage."  And 
you  all  know  how  there  runs  through  the  great 
Apostle's  writings  a  strain  as  to  the  great  duty  of 
thankfulness.  You  remember  how,  speaking  of  the 
heathen  world,  he  tells  that  its  condemnation  was, 
that,  "  when  they  knew  God,  they  glorified  Him  not 
as  God,  neither  were  thankful."  And  you  remember, 
too,  that  strong  counsel  to  the  saints  at  Ephesus, 
"  Giving  thanks  always  for  all  things  unto  God  and 
the  Father  in  the  name  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Here,  then,  is  the  mood  of  spirit  in  which  the  true 
Christian  should  be  seeking  to  go  on  through  life. 


THANKFULNESS.  33 

"  Be  ye  thankful."  Every  one  here  knows  well  how 
great  a  part  of  Christian  duty,  of  vital  religion,  consists 
in  the  cultivation  of  spiritual  states,  not  outwardly 
seen:  of  conditions  of  temper,  affection,  will,  and 
judgment,  which  make  but  a  small  and  imperfect 
manifestation  of  themselves  in  external  deeds.  There 
are  many  such  graces  which  we  ought  to  be  daily  cul 
tivating  :  praying  for  those  influences  of  the  Blessed 
Spirit  which  are  to  the  graces  of  the  soul  as  the  gen 
tle  summer  rain  and  the  warm  summer  sunshine  to 
green  grass  and  green  leaves.  But  we  may  be  sure 
that  there  is  none  that  is  more  weightily  incumbent 
upon  us,  none  from  whose  faithful  cultivation  we  shall 
in  many  ways  get  more  good,  than  this  great  funda 
mental  and  all-pervading  grace  of  gratitude  towards 
God.  It  is  a  happy  temper  to  come  to,  and  one  that 
is  worth  some  pains  and  thought  to  reach,  that,  when 
ever  we  are  enjoying  anything  good,  any  blessing 
that  has  come,  —  when  things  go  as  we  would  wish, 
when  some  trouble  or  anxiety  has  been  removed,  —  we 
should  think,  Now  I  know  from  Whom  all  this  comes, 
—  and  be  thankful  to  Him.  It  is  a  great  addition  to 
the  value  of  any  happy  thing  that  comes1  to  us,  if  we 
train  ourselves  to  this ;  not  to  thank  our  stars,  or  think 
how  lucky  we  have  been,  but  to  take  it  all  as  proof 
of  a  kind  God's  remembrance,  of  His  love  or  His 
forbearance  and  patience. 

Now,  it  may  be  replied  to  all  this,  No  doubt  that  is 
a  most  happy  temper  to  come  to  ;  no  doubt,  there  is 
3 


34  THANKFULNESS. 

hardly  a  thing  which  can  come  a  human  being's  way, 
for  which  he  should  be  more  thankful  than  for  a  thank 
ful  heart.  But  then,  is  that  a  thing  that  can  be  got,  if 
nature  or  grace  has  not  given  it  to  you  ?  There  are 
people  of  that  happy,  hopeful,  cheerful,  contented,  hum 
ble,  trusting  disposition,  that  they  always  look  at  the 
bright  side  of  things  :  they  really  have  a  great  deal  to 
be  thankful  for ;  and  they  are  able  to  see  it.  Other 
people,  again,  are  naturally  anxious  ;  desponding  :  they 
cannot  help  looking  on  to  the  future  with  a  certain 
vague  fear ;  and  they  have  a  very  heavy  burden  of 
anxiety  and  care  actually  resting  on  them.  They 
really  have  not  so  much  to  be  thankful  for  ;  and  though 
they  honestly  desire  to  think  of  God's  kindness  and 
their  own  ill-deserving,  still  "  care's  unthankful  gloom  " 
has  settled  down  upon  them  ;  and  they  are  not  able  to 
be  thankful :  that  is,  to  have  thankfulness  as  the  pre 
vailing  and  habitual  temper  of  their  heart  and  mind  : 
it  is  not  in  them  to  have  that ;  and  one  of  the  saddest 
things  about  their  sad  lot,  that  this  should  be  so. 

I  will  confess  that  there  is  a  certain  measure  of 
truth  in  all  this.  You  cannot  determine  that  your 
heart  shall  be  thankful,  just  as  you  might  determine 
that  your  hands  shall  be  clean.  It  is  not  so  directly 
and  completely  under  the  control  of  your  will,  as  that. 
I  believe  there  may  be  Christian  men  and  women, 
daily  confessing  before  God  with  tears  their  unthank- 
fulness  and  lack  of  trust  in  Him :  daily  praying  ear 
nestly  for  more  thankfulness,  and  more  faith  that 


THANKFULNESS.  -35 

M 

"  The  Lord  will  provide."  And  yet,  when 
in  the  text  says  to  you  and  me,  my  friends,  "  Be*^^ 
thankful,"  there  is  implied  in  that  command,  that  this 
is  a  thing  so  far  under  control  that  it  may  fitly  be 
commanded.  It  is  thus  far  under  our  own  control, 
that  by  God's  grace  we  may  attain  it  if  we  honestly 
try.  And  you  know  there  is  no  Christian  grace 
we  can  attain  on  any  other  terms.  There  is  no 
Christian  duty  we  can  do,  unless  by  that  same  help, 
God's  grace  and  Spirit,  freely  offered.  And  your  own 
common  sense  tells  you,  and  your  own  observation 
of  those  around  you  tells  you,  that  no  doubt  there  is 
such  a  thing  as  fostering  a  querulous,  discontented, 
unthankful  spirit ;  and  there  is  such  a  thing  as  culti 
vating  a  humble,  trusting,  thankful  one.  To  a  certain 
degree,  all  this  is  under  the  control  of  the  will.  To 
a  certain  and  great  degree,  people  have  this  in  their 
own  hands.  You  have  found  it  so  yourselves.  You 
know  there  are  men  and  women  who  keep  thinking 
mainly  of  the  few  things  they  would  like  which  God 
has  denied  them ;  and  who  never  think  at  all  of  the 
innumerable  things  they  need,  which  God  has  given 
them,  and  continues  to  give  them  day  by  day ;  often 
while  these  blessings  are  never  remarked,  and  habit 
ually  while  the  gift  is  received  without  the  faintest 
breath  of  thankfulness  to  the  great  Giver.  There  are 
people  who  do  all  this  constantly :  whose  whole  life 
and  talk  is  one  long,  ungrateful  grumble :  who  seem 
to  think  that  Almighty  God  has  some  grudge  or  spite 


36  THANKFULNESS. 

against  them :  and  all  this,  while  they  are  incompa 
rably  more  favored  by  Him  than  is  the  vast  majority 
of  the  race ;  than  are  countless  millions  of  immor 
tal  beings  who  deserve  at  God's  hands  exactly  as 
much.  Indeed,  I  doubt  not  you  have  sometimes 
thought,  that,  as  regards  worldly  aims  and  successes 
and  advantages,  it  is  often  those  to  whom  God  has 
given  most,  who  are  least  thankful  to  Him :  it  is  often 
those  who  have  already  received  worldly  blessings  by 
scores  and  hundreds,  who  keep  up  a  constant  queru 
lous  moaning  if  they  are  not  suffered  to  get  some  one 
thing  more  :  as  if  the  fact  that  you  have  already  got 
a  vast  deal,  gave  you  a  right  to  demand  everything. 
And,  not  to  think  of  others,  has  not  each  of  you 
sometimes  set  your  heart  on  something  or  other  ;  and 
because  God  would  not  give  you  that,  talked  and  felt 
as  if  you  were  released  from  all  obligation  to  be  grate 
ful  to  God  at  all :  forgot  entirely  the  thousand  things 
He  daily  gives  you,  in  the  bitter  thought  of  the  one 
thing  He  saw  meet  to  deny  ?  Now,  by  giving  in  to 
this,  which  doubtless  is  a  tendency  in  fallen  human 
nature,  —  by  this  brooding  over  the  thing  denied,  and 
turning  your  back  on  the  manifold  things  given,  —  you 
are  just  training  yourselves  to  ingratitude  towards 
God ;  you  are  sowing  and  watering  and  fostering  that 
evil  weed  in  your  heart !  You  are  flying  in  the  face 
of  this  wise  and  kindly  precept  which  makes  the 
text.  Oh  how  much  better,  —  how  much  worthier 
and  happier,  —  yea,  how  much  wiser,  —  to  turn  the 


THANKFULNESS.  37 

other  page  ;  to  look  how  much  you  get,  to  think  how 
little  you  deserve  ;  to  remember  that  you  are  a  poor 
guilty  sinner  deserving  only  God's  wrath  and  woe ; 
to  remember  that  you  ought  to  be  thankful  that  you 
are  spared  in  the  place  of  hope,  —  that  you  are  out 
of  perdition  ;  to  remember  that  every  blessing  that 
comes  to  you,  comes  simply  and  entirely  of  God's  free 
grace  and  for  Christ's  sake  :  till  in  shame  that  such 
a  creature  as  you  should  dare  to  be  unthankful, 
should  not  be  thankful  to  take  the  crumbs  that  fall 
from  the  Master's  table,  you  fall  on  your  knees,  and 
hide  your  face,  and  pray  for  pardon  for  that  ungrate 
ful,  murmuring,  wicked  spirit,  to  which  you  have  been 
giving  harbor! 

I  have  remarked,  brethren,  and  I  am  sure  many 
of  you  have  done  the  same,  that  people  who  have 
received  least  at  God's  hand,  —  least,  that  is,  in  the 
way  of  earthly  blessing,  —  are  oftentimes  the  most 
thankful.  I  have  seen  the  poor  sufferer  more  thank 
ful  to  God  for  an  hour  of  ease,  than  many  a  one  of  us 
is  for  a  life  in  which  we  hardly  ever  know  pain.  I 
have  known  the  bare  dwelling  of  poverty,  where  a 
thankfulness  that  was  painful  to  see,  followed  the 
little  aid  that  might  procure  what  was  literally  the 
"  daily  bread,"  for  the  poor,  white-faced  little  hungry 
children,  —  a  thankfulness  greater  a  hundred  times 
than  ever  was  expressed  in  the  formal  "  returning  of 
thanks  "  after  a  sumptuous  feast ;  —  a  giving  of  thanks 
so  perfunctory  and  so  heartless  that  one  sometimes 


38  THANKFULNESS. 

wonders  how  much  real  gratitude  it  is  meant  to 
express,  or  whether  it  is  meant  to  express  any  at  all. 
Ay,  there  is  more  true  thankfulness,  more  of  the 
recognition  of  a  providing  God,  in  that  touching 
picture  you  may  have  lately  seen,  of  the  poor  old 
fisherwornan  and  her  little  granddaughter  asking 
God's  blessing  upon  their  sorry  meal,  than  many  of 
us  have  many  a  time  shown,  with  more  reason  to  be 
thankful.  Oh,  my  friends,  there  is  a  lesson  and  a 
rebuke  there  for  you  and  me  !  Yes :  I  am  not  afraid 
that  from  the  most  suffering,  the  humblest,  the  poor 
est,  the  objection  will  come  to  St.  Paul's  precept  in 
the  text,  that  truly  they  have  very  little  to  be  thank 
ful  for:  not  from  bereaved  hearts,  not  from  crushed 
hearts,  not  from  beds  of  suffering  and  houses  of  death 
will  that  undutiful  objection  come.  My  friends,  I 
have  heard  many  a  poor  creature  say,  in  the  midst 
of  suffering,  privations,  trials,  the  like  of  which  you 
never  knew,  "  Oh,  I  have  much  to  be  thankful  for  ! " 
And  you  looked  round  the  bare  room,  and  you  thought 
of  the  comfortless  lot ;  you  saw  the  aged,  trembling 
hands,  and  you  heard  the  failing  breath  :  and  you 
thought  how  such  as  walk  by  sight  and  not  by  faith, 
would  have  wondered  what  it  was  that  that  poor  crea 
ture  had  to  be  thankful  for.  Yet  you  blest  God  in 
your  heart,  that  the  solemn  words  were  true  !  Yes, 
that  sufferer  had  much,  yea,  very  much  to  be  thank 
ful  for !  No  earthly  comfort,  no  worldly  wealth,  no 
human  friends,  were  worth  that  possession  in  the  fail- 


THANKFULNESS.  39 

ing  heart,  which  had  its  solemn  witness  in  that  grate 
ful  spirit !  That  sufferer  had  "  won  Christ ; "  in  the 
poor  chamber  His  presence  was  truly  felt ;  that  suf 
ferer  had  reached  the  strong  consolation,  the  sanctify 
ing  grace,  'of  God's  Holy  Spirit ;  that  sufferer  was 
going  home  to  Heaven,  to  enter  on  the  inheritance  of 
martyrs  and  saints,  and  to  rest  in  the  rest  of  God ! 
Ah,  brethren,  if  ever  true  words  were  spoken  on  this 
earth,  it  was  when  the  dying  Christian  said,  He  had 
much  to  be  thankful  for ! 

•  But  we  have  been  led  into  this  train  of  thought, 
while  remarking  that  thankfulness  in  the  heart  is  a 
grace  which  may  be  cultivated,  and  that  an  ungrate 
ful  heart  is  a  bad  thing  which  may  be  put  down; 
and  that  it  depends  a  great  deal  more  upon  our  own 
nature,  and  our  own  endeavors,  aided  by  God's 
Spirit,  whether  we  shall  be  thankful  or  not,  than  it 
depends  upon  our  outward  blessings  and  advantages. 
It  is  just  those  people  who  have  fewest  of  these,  that 
are  many  a  time  the  most  thankful.  And  every  one 
can  understand,  that  if  the  denial  of  worldly  prosperity, 
and  the  sending  of  worldly  trials  and  disappointments, 
be  used  by  God,  and  sanctified  by  the  Blessed  Spirit, 
to  make  our  souls  prosper  and  be  in  health,  —  to  lead 
us  to  Christ,  and  to  make  us  choose  Him  for  our  eter 
nal  portion, —  then  there  never  was  anything  for  which 
we  had  so  good  reason  to  be  thankful  as  for  these 
dealings  of  God  with  us,  painful  as  at  the  time  they 
might  be.  You  remember  how  the  good  and  wise 


40  THANKFULNESS. 

man  Jabez,  in  old  days,  knew  that  God  might  "  bless 
indeed,"  when  mere  worldly  men  might  have  fancied 
that  He  did  not  bless  at  all.  And  if  we  have  com 
mitted  our  souls  to  Christ,  then,  however  hard  it  may 
oftentimes  be  to  believe  it,  God  will  be  blessing  us  by 
all  He  sends :  "  all  things  .will  work  together  "  for  our 
good ;  and  we  shall  have  good  reason,  like  St.  Paul,  to 
"  give  thanks  always  for  all  things."  "  Though  He 
slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  Him,"  is  the  earnest 
purpose  of  the  faithful  spirit :  and  who  can  forget  that 
noble  example  of  steady  faith  in  God's  love  through 
the  darkest  days,  —  the  example  of  him  who,  when 
flocks  and  herds  and  children  and  all  were  reft  from 
him  on  one  black  day,  "fell  down  upon  the  ground 
and  worshipped,"  saying,  "  Naked  came  I  out  of  my 
mother's  womb,  and  naked  shall  I  return  thither  :  The 
Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord  ! " 

And  in  all  this,  my  friends,  we  have  reached  the 
true  secret  of  thankfulness.  Only  to  true  believers 
in  Jesus  is  this  text,  in  its  fullest  and  deepest  sense, 
addressed ;  only  by  them  can  it  be  obeyed.  The 
mere  worldly  man  may  be  grateful  to  the  God  of 
Providence,  when  all  things  prosper  with  him  ;  when 
there  is  abundant  reason  for  thankfulness,  manifest 
to  the  eye  of  sense ;  but  it  is  the  true  believer's  un 
speakable,  inestimable  privilege  to  thank  God  for  all. 
"  Be  careful  for  nothing  ;  but  in  everything,  by  prayer 
and  supplication,  with  thanksgiving,  let  your  requests 


THANKFULNESS.  41 

be  made  known  unto  God ; "  and  then  "  the  peace 
of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding,  shall  keep 
your  hearts  and  minds  through  Christ  Jesus."  To 
"  be  thankful,"  as  the  text  commands,  is  the  especial 
grace  of  the  true  believer:  of  him  who  knows  that 
God  loves  him ;  who  sees  in  Christ's  life  and  death 
that  God  loves  him;  and  who  is  not, to  be  shaken 
from  that  firm  belief  by  the  darkest,  saddest,  most 
perplexing  things  that  come.  "  I  know  my  God  too 
well,"  the  Christian  says,  "  in  a  multitude  of  ways,  to 
be  driven  from  my  assurance  of  His  love  for  me,  and 
to  be  driven  from  my  gratitude  to  Him,  even  by  trials 
and  sorrows  He  may  send  me,  and  whose  purpose  I 
cannot  in  the  least  explain."  "  I  really  do  not  know," 
may  be  the  believer's  words,  "  why  it  has  pleased  God 
>  to  send  me  this  long  season  of  broken  health ;  or  why 
He  has  set  me  in  the  last  place  in  life  I  would  have 
chosen ;  or  why  He  has  denied  me  a  blessing  which  I 
think  no  one  would  ever  have  enjoyed  so  much  as 
me :  I  really  cannot  explain  all  that ;  but  I  know 
that  all  God's  dealings  with  me  are  kind  and  right ; 
and  so  by  His  Spirit's  help  I  will  thank  Him  for  it 
all ! "  Here,  my  friends,  is  the  secret  of  thankfulness. 
Here  is  the  way  in  which  to  obey  this  great  precept 
of  the  great  Apostle  Paul.  It  has  grown  upon  me, 
this  conviction,  as  I  wrote  this  sermon ;  and  because 
I  am  sure  of  its  solemn  truth  and  importance,  I  pray 
that  the  Blessed  Spirit  may  impress  it  on  all.  I  had 
not  intended  this  treatment  of  my  text:  I  had  not 


42  THANKFULNESS. 

intended  this  line  of  thought  at  all.  I  had  thought 
of  a  long  catalogue  of  blessings  which  God  has  freely 
given  us :  things  we  all  have  for  which  to  be  thank 
ful  :  and  at  another  time  I  may  fitly  suggest  these 
to  you ;  but  it  is  borne  in  upon  me  that  that  is  not 
the  way  to  waken  and  kindle  real  thankfulness  in 
our  hearts.  True  it  is,  indeed,  that  there  is  so  very 
much  that  we  have  all  freely  received.  True  it  is, 
that  there  is  so  very  much  we  all  get  from  God,  and 
get  for  nothing.  True  it  is,  that  there  is  a  host  of 
things  which  God  must  do  for  each  of  us  every  day, 
or  we  could  not  live ;  and  true  it  is,  above  all, 
that  God  so  loved  us  that  He  sent  His  Son  to  die. 
All  these  truths  we  may  well  remember,  and  seek  to 
grow  more  grateful  to  the  great  Benefactor  when  we 
"  forget  not  all  His  benefits."  But  beyond  all  this  is 
the  training  of  our  hearts  to  thankfulness ;  the  putting' 
down  the  hard  and  suspicious  thoughts  of  God  which 
will  come  when  His  benefits  seem  few  and  our  anxie 
ties  many  ;  the  firm  belief  in  His  love  for  us ;  the 
steady  faith  that  the  darkest  things  are  what  we  need, 
to  train  us  for  a  better  world.  O  brethren,  if  you 
would  be  truly  thankful,  seek  an  assured  part  in 
Christ  till  you  get  it ;  seek  with  your  whole  heart  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  may  kill  out  in  you  all  evil  feelings 
and  thoughts  and  affections,  —  may  show  us  .what  sin 
ful  creatures  we  are,  undeserving  the  least  of  God's 
mercies,  —  may  make  our  hearts  glow  with  gratitude 
to  Him  who  died  for  us,  loved  us,  saved  us !  And 


THANKFULNESS.  43 

if  that  be  done,  how  little  all  other  things  will  be ! 
Reading  back  the  story  of  our  past  lives,  we  shall  see 
how  wonderfully  we  have  been  led  and  kept  at  a 
hundred  times  and  ways ;  till,  like  the  Psalmist,  we 
say,  "  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul !  "  But  if  we  have 
been  of  a  surety  led  to  Christ,  then  that  sufficeth  us. 
"  Thanks  be  unto  God/'  will  be  the  utterance  of  our 
heart,  "  for  His  unspeakable  gift,"  which  includes  or 
makes  up  for  every  other !  "  Unto  Him  that  loved 
us,  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  His  own  blood, 
and  hath  made  us  kings  and  priests  unto  God  and 
His  Father,  —  to  Him  be  glory  and  dominion  forever 
and  ever,  Amen  ! " 

And  this  thankful  spirit,  to  which  we  may  thus 
train  ourselves  in  this  life,  by  the  guidance  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  is  one  that  will  last  with  us  forever. 
Yes,  it  is  fit  and  right  that  through  eternity  the  songs 
of  the  redeemed  should  be  songs  of  praise  and  thank 
fulness.  Looking  back,  there,  on  the  way  by  which 
they  have  been  brought, —  its  temptations,  perils,  and 
sorrows  ;  looking  round  on  the  glory  and  rest  in  which 
they  are,  and  safe  forever  to  be ;  calling  to  mind  the 
work  and  death  of  that  Blessed  One  to  whom  they 
owe  it  all :  what  wonder  if  the  spirit  of  adoring  grati 
tude  should  be  breathed  through  all  the  utterances  of 
that  great  multitude  that  shall  stand  before  the  throne, 
and  before  the  Lamb  !  What  wonder  if  their  words 
shall  be,  "  Blessing,  and  glory,  and  wisdom,  and 


44  THANKFULNESS. 

thanksgiving,  and  honor,  and  power,  and  might,  be 
unto  our  God  forever  and  ever ! "  There,  shall  be 
thanksgiving  consummate !  "  Blessing,  and  honor, 
and  glory,  and  power,  be  unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon 
the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb  forever  !  "  Yes,  there, 
at  last,  perfect  thankfulness,  and  perfect  rest.  It  is 
meet  and  well  that  to-day,  in  deep  Glencroe,  or  amid 
green  cornfields  and  summer  trees  nearer  hand,  the 
wayfarer  should  sit  down  and  thank  God  for  that  little 
blink  of  rest.  But  oh,  in  that  Happy  Place,  where 
the  believer  is  safe  forever,  looking  back  upon 
earthly  pain  and  sorrow,  in  the  perfect  peace  of  God ; 
where  no  anxiety  or  care  can  ever  come ;  where 
nothing  shall  distract  or  weary  any  more ;  where  the 
believer  shall  have  entered  upon  that  Rest  that  re- 
maineth  for  the  people  of  God ;  and  where  the  holy 
heart,  wherein  all  sin  is  dead,  shall  yield  no  affection 
that  is  not  pure  as  God  is  pure  :  then,  my  friends,  in 
a  glorious  and  sublime  truth  of  sense,  the  pilgrim 
shall  REST  AND  BE  THANKFUL  ! 

June  21, 1863. 


III. 


THE   BLESSED   COMFORTER. 

The  Comforter,  which  is  the  Holy  Ghost."  —  JOHN  xiv.  26. 

SOMETIMES  think,  my  friends,  that 
there  is  One  Person  in  the  Godhead, 
whom  we  practically  do  somewhat  slight. 
We  do  not  think  of  Him  so  kindly  and 
hopefully  as  we  ought ;  we  do  not  enough  recognize 
Him  as  God,  with  the  Father  and  the  Son  together  to 
be  worshipped  and  glorified.  We  seldom  hear  even 
a  sentence  in  a  prayer,  addressed  expressly  to  the 
Blessed  and  Holy  Spirit,  the  Third  Person  in  the 
Godhead.  I  do  not  believe  that  any  among  us  doubts 
that  there  is  such  a  Being :  we  are  fully  persuaded  of 
His  Personality,  and  His  Agency,  and  the  inestimable 
value  and  importance  of  the  work  He  does.  We 
believe  all  that.  May  God  help  our  unbelief  and 
increase  our  faith !  Yet  still,  I  think  we  greatly  fail 
practically  to  realize  these  things.  We  are  ready  to 
think  of  the  Holy  Ghost  rather  as  an  influence,  an 
energy  proceeding  from  God,  than  as  a  real  kindly 
Person,  loving  us,  caring  for  us,  dwelling  in  us  if  that 


46  THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER. 

be  God's  gracious  will.  And  yet,  if  we  think  at  all, 
we  cannot  but  feel  that  none  can  be  more  interested 
in  our  salvation ;  that  none  is  more  closely  and  com 
pletely  linked  with  our  whole  Christian  life  ;  that  there 
is  none  whose  presence  is  so  needful  for  us  while  we 
remain  in  this  present  evil  world. 

We  can  see  a  kind  of  reason  for  this  lack  of  full 
and  express  recognition  of  the  Blessed  Spirit.  No 
doubt,  —  no  doubt,  there  is  One  Person  in  the  God 
head,  whom  wre  love,  and  may  fitly  love,  most  of  all. 
There  is  One,  whose  name  (let  us  pray)  will  never 
fail  to  warm  our  heart,  till  our  heart  turns  cold  with 
the  last  chill  it  is  to  know.  It  is,  doubtless,  that 
beloved  Redeemer  who  died  for  us ;  that  Divine 
Person  who  took 'upon  Himself  our  human  nature, 
and  became  our  Elder  Brother  in  humanity;  that 
Blessed  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  who  went  about  doing 
good,  and  to  whom  little  children  came  so  naturally, 
drawn  by  the  sweetness  of  that  kind  face  and  that 
gentle  voice ;  and  concerning  whom  we  seem  to  feel 
that,  the  Mighty  God  as  he  was,  we  could  have  gone 
to  Him,  and  told  our  story  to  Him,  rather  in  love  and 
confidence  than  in  fear. 

It  is  not  wonderful,  brethren,  that  in  the  believing 
heart,  Christ  should  always  be  the  First,  yea,  the  All 
in  All.  And  there  is  more  and  deeper  in  this  than 
the  mere  weak  impulse  of  our  fallen  nature.  For  in 
the  face  of  Christ  we  see  the  glory  of  the  whole  God 
head.  He  is  the  Image  of  the  Invisible  God,  Father, 


THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER.  47 

Son,  and  Spirit.  And  looking  at  Him,  and  loving 
Him,  we  look  at  God,  and  we  love  God.  And .  the 
visible  representative  is  naturally  more  conspicuous, 
more  manifest  to  our  view,  than  the  invisible  God 
head  which  He  represents.  But,  besides  this  right 
reason  for  special  love  to  the  Saviour,  our  Elder 
Brother,  there  is  another  wrong  reason  in  many 
minds  :  a  reason  founding  upon  a  notion  which  cannot 
be  too  carefully  dispelled  from  your  minds.  This  is 
the  notion,  entertained  by  many,  that  Christ  is  far 
kinder  and  milder  and  more  easily  won,  than  God  the 
Father  and  God  the  Spirit ;  that  God  the  Father, 
especially,  is  a  stern,  severe  being,  who  would  will 
ingly  have  consigned  us  to  all  perdition ;  and  that 
the  gentler,  kinder  Son  interposed,  and  suffered,  and 
saved  us  almost  against  the  angry  Father's  will.  Oh, 
what  a  miserably  false  and  unchristian  way  that  is  of 
regarding  God !  Is  that  the  kind  of  idea  conveyed 
to  us  by  Christ,  when  He  tells  us  that  God  waits 
to  welcome  back  the  sinner  as  kindly  as  the  father 
did  his  prodigal  son ;  and  when  He  tells  that  the 
kindest-hearted  among  you  is  not  so  ready  to  show 
kindness  to  your  children  as  He  is  to  give  every  bless 
ing  to  you  !  Always  remember,  brethren, —  and  pray 
for  grace  to  feel  it  far  more  really  than  you  have  ever 
vet  done,  —  that  just  what  Christ  was,  God  is ;  that, 
when  you  desire  to  think  of  the  Almighty  Being 
above  us,  your  right  course  is,  not  to  put  your  mind 
upon  the  stretch,  to  reach  out  to  thoughts  of  infinite 


48  THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER. 

space  and  infinite  years,  but  rather  to  open  the  Gos 
pel  of  St.  Luke  or  St.  John,  and  to  see  Jesus  of  Naz 
areth  as  He  trod  this  world  ;  to  listen  to  His  com 
fortable  words,  to  mark  His  deeds  of  mercy ;  to  think 
of  His  never-failing  compassion  to  the  sorrowful,  of 
His  willingness  to  receive  the  sinful ;  to  look  on  His 
unspeakable  love  to  lost  man,  shown  in  His  life  and 
His  death ;  and  then  to  remember  that  this  same 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  "  hath  shown  us  the  Father,"  and 
that  He  is  the  "  Image  of  the  Invisible  God  !  " 

It  is  an  end,  my  friends,  to  which  a  Christian 
minister  can  never  devote  too  much  care  and  thought, 
to  dispel  from  the  minds  of  the  people  committed  to 
his  ministry,  the  wrong  ideas  and  beliefs,  which  are  so 
ready  to  creep  in  and  establish  themselves,  as  to  Al 
mighty  God;  a"s  to  His  nature  and  character;  as  to 
how  He  feels  towards  us.  And  I  cannot  but  frankly 
confess,  that  I  believe  there  is  no  small  measure  of 
truth  —  though  truth  stated  in  a  most  morbid  and  ex 
aggerated  fashion  —  in  what  has  been  written  by  an 
eminent  historian  whose  life  and  work  were  lately 
and  sadly  cut  short .  together,  as  to  the  stern  and 
gloomy  views  of  our  Heavenly  Father  entertained  by 
not  a  few  in  Scotland.  My  desire  and  prayer  at  this 
time  are,  that  we  may  this  day  be  enabled  rightly 
and  truly  to  think  of  One  who  is  indeed  God;  of 
One  who  cares  for  us  as  warmly  and  sincerely  as 
the  Redeemer  Himself;  of  One  who  "makes  inter 
cession  for  us  with  groanings  that  cannot  be  uttered  ; " 


THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER.  49 

of  One  to  be  worshipped  and  glorified  as  God,  and 
to  be  loved  and  confided  in  only  less  than  Him  who 
died  for  us  on  the  tree. 

Let  us  remember,  then,  that  in  the  Godhead,  besides 
the  Father  and  the  Son,  there  is  a  Third  Person,  the 
same  in  substance,  equal  in  power  and  glory,  who  is 
called  the  Holy  Ghost,  or  the  Holy  Spirit ;  mysterious 
in  His  nature  and  being ;  proceeding  from  the  Father 
and  the  Son ;  who  spake  by  the  prophets,  and  who 
fulfils  certain  great  works  in  that  wonderful  operation 
which  brings  man  from  death  to  life,  and  which  makes 
man  fit  to  dwell  in  God's  beatific  presence.  We  shall 
hereafter  think  of  the  varied  operation  of  this  Blessed 
Spirit ;  but  let  us  now  think  of  that  one  precious  truth 
which  our  Saviour  sets  before  us  in  the  words  of  the 
text.  See  how  our  Lord  names  Him:  "The  Comfort 
er,  which  is  the  Holy  Ghost."  And  in  several  other 
places,  Christ  calls  Him  by  the  same  name.  It  is 
known  to  many  of  you,  that,  while  the  word  which  our 
Saviour  used  is  very  fitly  translated  by  the  English 
word  Comforter,  and  while  it  unquestionably  means 
that,  it  has  been  maintained  that  it  means  yet  more, 
and  that  some  hint,  some  suggestion,  of  all  the  varied 
work  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  conveyed  by  that  well- 
remembered  word  PARACLETE,  which  was  actually 
used  by  Christ.  We  are  too  ready,  all  of  us,  to  feel 
towards  the  mysterious  Holy  Ghost  something  of  the 
shrinking  and  the  chill  with  which  we  naturally  re 
gard  a  disembodied  spirit ;  and  superstition,  and  stu- 


50  THE  BLESSED   COMFORTER. 

pidity,  and  wicked  mismanagement  in  childhood  have 
turned  one  of  the  words  which  make  the  name  of  that 
Blessed  One,  into  a  name  of  fear.  But,  brethren,  if 
we  did  but  get  rid  of  our  ignorant  fancies,  if  we  did 
but  see  the  truth  of  the  case,  we  should  feel  that 
there  is  something  so  kindly,  something  so  homely 
and  sympathizing  and  dear,  about  that  precious  Holy 
Spirit,  that  surely,  if  He  did  but  set  right  our  sinful 
hearts,  we  never  could  think  of  Him  but  with  perfect 
love  and  confidence,  —  with  that  perfect  love  which 
casteth  out  unworthy  fear.  And  what  kindliness, 
what  consideration,  are  in  the  very  name  by  which 
the  Saviour  calls  Him :  "  The  Comforter,  which  is  the 
Holy  Ghost !  "  What  a  view  of  an  unutterable  love 
and  patience  is  in  that  name  when  you  think  it  is  a 
name  of  God  !  "  The  Comforter ! "  One  who  will  not 
be  impatient  at  our  little  griefs,  and  at  the  poor  way 
in  which  we  bear  them  ;  One  who  will  condescend, 
from  the  great  movements  and  concerns  of  the  uni 
verse,  to  think  of  all  the  little  cares  and  sorrows  of 
a  poor 'human  being,  —  of  a  feeble  woman,  or  a  little 
child,  or  a  poor  struggling  anxious  man  with  his 
weight  of  care  and  toil,  —  things  that  many  another 
man  would  not  take  the  trouble  of  listening  to ;  One 
who  will  sit  down  by  us  in  our  sorrow,  and  whisper 
consoling  thoughts  into  our  ear,  —  yea,  carry  His 
blessed  peace  into  our  very  heart,  —  that  peace  which 
the  world  cannot  give,  —  that  peace  of  God  which 
passeth  all  understanding!  Think,  brethren,  of  a 


THE  BLESSED   COMFORTER.  51 

Being  who,  in  all  the  glory  of  Godhead,  yet  chooses 
for  His  special  resort  the  darkest  dwellings  and  the 
saddest  hearts,  all  that  He  may  convey  His  own  strong 
consolation  and  gracious  cheer ;  not  despising  our  little 
troubles,  —  and  how  little,  we  might  blindly  think, 
must  they  seem  to  Him  ;  entering  into  them  all  with 
unfeigned  sympathy  ;  bearing  with  our  fretfulness  and 
our  murmurings ;  not  scolding  us  for  grieving,  or 
hardly  telling  us  it  is  no  matter ;  not  ordering  us  to 
cease  to  mourn,  but  comforting  us  as  one  whom  His 
mother  comforteth,  leading  the  wandering,  rebellious 
soul  gently  back,  and  sanctifying  through  all ! 

And  that,  my  friends,  that  is  the  fashion  in  which 
we  ought  to  think  about  the  Holy  Ghost,  —  the 
Blessed  Spirit  of  God.  No  doubt,  He  does  many 
things  besides  comforting.  Pie  regenerates  us,  and 
makes  us  new  creatures  in  Christ ;  He  convinces  us 
of  sin,  and  enables  us  to  believe  in  the  Saviour ;  He 
sanctifies  us  day  by  day,  making  us  in  the  end  meet 
for  glory  ;  He  begins,  in  short,  our  better  life,  and 
carries  it  on  to  its  perfection  ;  He  teaches  us  to  pray, 
and  breathes  true  devotion  into  our  hearts  ;  yet  it  is 
meet  and  right  that,  with  all  this,  we  should  worship 
and  seek  Him  by  His  gracious  name  of  Comforter. 
It  is  not  an  unworthy  thing  to  call  Him  by  that  name, 
whereby  Christ  called  Him,  nor  to  think  of  Him,  for 
a  little,  in  that  character.  Now,  brethren,  think  of  a 
human  being  who  should  devote  himself  to  going 
about  from  house  of  sorrow  to  house  of  sorrow,  all  to 


52  THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER. 

comfort ;  who  never  would  hear  of  a  mourning  heart, 
among  rich  or  poor,  but  he  set  himself  to  console  it, 
and  that  without  the  faintest  suspicion  of  intrusiveness 
or  fussiness  ;  who  had  such  a  charm  about  him,  through 
his  tender  heart  and  his  kind  face  and  his  gentle  per 
suasive  voice,  that  he  would  in  time  win  his  way  to  the 
confidence  of  the  most  hard  and  repellent  and  self-con 
tained,  and  make  them  feel  he  was  their  friend,  and 
get  them  to  talk  out  to  him  all  their  burdened  heart ; 
whom  no  fretfulness  nor  sullenness  could  weary  ;  whom 
no  sorrow  nor  grief  could  long  withstand  without  being 
lightened  and  hallowed  ;  oh,  what  a  heavenly  mission 
would  that  man's  be !  You  would  not  be  afraid  of  a 
man  like  that !  And  surely,  if  you  feel  aright,  you 
will  feel  nothing  but  love  and  confidence  towards  One 
who  is  all  that  and  a  thousand  times  more,  and  whose 
name  and  nature  and  work  are  set  before  us  in  words 
that  should  come  home  so  warmly  to  sorrowful  hu 
man  hearts  as  the  blessed,  kindly,  sympathizing  Holy 
Ghost,  the  great  and  good  Comforter  ! 

And  now,  my  friends,  I  wish  that  we  may  rest  for 
a  little  while  in  the  contemplation  of  this  great  truth, 
that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  the  Comforter,  that  we  may 
see  how  far  this  truth  will  enable  us  to  understand 
and  to  love  as  we  ought  this  Third  Person  in  the 
Godhead.  May  He  Himself,  Spirit  of  all  light  and 
truth,  order  that  all  that  is  said  may  be  said  truly  and 
worthily ! 

And,  first,  when  we  speak  of  the  Holy  Spirit  as  the 


THE  BLESSED    COMFORTER.  53 

Comforter  of  Christ's  people,  see  what  this  implies  as 
to  His  knowledge  of  us,  and  of  all  our  circumstances. 
My  friends,  before  any  one  can  comfort  you,  he  must 
not  only  know  you,  but  must  know  you  well.  He 
must  know  what  sorrow  or  trouble  it  is  that  is  press 
ing  upon  you ;  he  must  know  so  much  about  your 
nature  and  your  affairs  as  to  be  able  to  understand 
how  it  is  that  that  sorrow  weighs  on  you  so  heavily ; 
and  what  is  the  particular  kind  of  feeling  it  awakes  in 
you  ;  and  what  the  thoughts  and  remembrances  are 
that  corne  most  bitterly  across  you  as  you  look  round 
or  look  back.  You  know  that  the  very  kindest  heart 
and  the  very  best  intentions  will  not  enable  any  one 
to  offer  you  real  comfort  unless  he  knows  and  under 
stands  you  well ;  nay,  that  the  lack  of  power  to  un 
derstand  you  may  cause  the  best  intentioned  human 
being  so  to  speak  and  so  to  act  towards  you  as  only 
to  increase  your  grief  instead  of  relieving  it.  Yes,  it 
is  a  sad  sight  to  see  an  injudicious,  meddling,  well- 
meaning,  ignorant  person  trying  to  offer  consolation 
to  a  mourning  heart.  And  think,  then,  my  friends, 
how  intimately  and  thoroughly  the  great  Comforter, 
who  can  comfort  when  no  one  else  can,  must  know 
you  and  yours !  Let  us  speak  humbly,  brethren ; 
but  I  cannot  but  say  that  not  the  name  Creator,  not 
the  name  Redeemer,  seems  -to  convey  the  idea  of  such 
thorough  knowledge  of  us  and  of  all  about  us  as  the 
name  of  Comforter !  For  the  Comforter,  to  do  His 
work  aright,  must  know  a  great  many  very  little 


54  THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER. 

things  about  us,  must  make  Himself  well  acquainted 
with  all  those  little  things  about  them  which  mourners 
and  sufferers  are  so  ready  to  tell  us  about,  and  which 
are  apt  to  be  wearisome  to  even  really  kind  people, 
perhaps  to  almost  all  but  those  who  have  passed 
through  the  like  experience  themselves.  He  must 
know  all  those  thoughts  and  feelings  within  you,  in 
your  days  of  sorrow,  which  you  do  not  tell  to  another, 
but  yet  which  go  so  far  to  make  up  the  sum  of  your 
real  inward  life.  The  very  shade  of  feeling  with 
which  you  hear  of  the  blighting  of  your  fondest  hopes, 
or  with  which  you  bend  over  the  dead  face  of  one 
who  is  very  dear  to  you,  or  with  which  you  turn 
away  from  the  home  of  your  early  love,  —  all  those 
things  which  you  know  words  are  so  vain  to  convey 
to  others,  —  all  those  things  He  knows.  You  may 
be  sure  he  understands  you,  and  what  you  feel,  —  as 
strangers  do  not  and  cannot,  —  as  even  those  who  are 
not  strangers  often  most  imperfectly  do.  There  is 
no  one,  none,  who  is  so  at  home  under  your  roof, 
who  is  so  thoroughly  versed  in  all  your  circum 
stances,  your  anxieties,  your  feelings,  as  the  Blessed 
Spirit  of  God.  When  you  look  back,  in  seasons  of 
sorrow,  over  your  pilgrimage  hitherto;  when  you 
turn  over  the  faded  letters  in  which  past  years  are 
embalmed ;  when  you  read  some  record  that  wakens 
up  those  departed  days,  and  that  makes  the  old  time 
come  over  you;  then  be  sure  of  this,  that,  little  as 
most  of  those  you  know  can  understand  your  thoughts 


THE   BLESSED  COMFORTER.  55 

and  feelings,  the  Holy  Spirit,  the  Comforter,  under 
stands  them  all ! 

But  there  is  more  and  better  than  this.  The 
Blessed  Spirit  not  only  knows  us,  but  feels  for  us. 
That  is  implied  in  the  fact  that  He  stands  to  us  in  the 
relation  of  Comforter.  You  might  imagine  such  a 
thing  as  a  Being  of  infinite  knowledge  looking  on  at 
all  the  movements  of  our  minds,  as  we  might  look  on 
at  the  movements  of  ingenious  machinery,  with  curi 
ous  interest  and  nothing  more.  You  might  imagine 
Him  as-  looking,  with  the  interest  of  the  anatomist  or 
the  machinist,  at  the  play  of  the  fearful  and  wonderful 
enginery  of  thought  and  feeling  within  us,  as  we  go 
on  through  the  manifold  cares  and  sorrows  of  this 
life  ;  noting  how  in  certain  conjunctures  of  outward 
circumstances  certain  phases  appeared  within ;  re 
marking  how  at  one  time  the  spiritual  machinery 
played  buoyantly  and  lightly,  how  at  another  it 
dragged  wearily  and  slow,  how  again  it  seemed  as 
though  it  would  break  down  altogether,  shattered  and 
beaten ;  and  only  thinking,  in  the  sight  of  all  this, 
that  it  is  all  very  strange.  You  might  imagine  Him 
as  knowing  all  about  us,  yet  not  in  the  least  feeling 
for  us  ;  if  indeed  there  can  be  perfect  or  even  imper 
fect  knowledge  without  the  insight  which  the  elec 
tric  sympathy  gives.  Or,  you  might  imagine  a  great 
Spirit,  infinitely  exalted  above  us ;  seeing  how  little 
and  insignificant  are  the  things  which  vex  and  dis 
tress  us,  when  compared  with  the  great  concerns  of 


56  THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER. 

the  Universe ;  and  only  wondering  that  we  should 
make  such  an  ado  about  so  small  a  matter ;  wonder 
ing  at  our  anxieties  and  our  tears  with  a  feeling 
midway  between  wonder  and  contempt.  You  know, 
my  friends,  we  often  do  just  that.  When  you  see 
a  little  child  in  great  distress,  you  remark,  likely 
enough,  that  the  cause  of  its  distress  is  very  small,  is 
something  that  you  would  never  think  of  shedding 
tears  about ;  and  unless  you  have  a  deeper  insight 
into  truth  than  most  have,  you  are  disposed  rather 
to  be  impatient  of  all  this  sorrow ;  you  are  disposed 
rather  to  be  angry  that  the  little  thing  should  be 
so  foolish,  than  to  feel  any  real,  hearty  sympathy 
with  its  distress.  Ah,  brethren,  if  the  Holy  Spirit 
were  like  us,  He  would  many  a  time  rather  chide 
than  comfort! 

But  if  it  were  so,  He  might  retain  many  names 
of  honor;  but  one  name,  kindly  and  heart-warming, 
would  be  His  no  more !  If  that  were  so,  the  Merciful 
Saviour  would  never  have  named  Him  as  "  The 
Comforter,  which  is  the  Holy  Ghost;"  and  though 
we  might  still  adore  Him  from  afar,  we  should  not 
love  Him  as  now;  nor  pray  to  have  Him  for  the 
daily  inmate  of  our  homes  and  hearts  !  That  He  may 
comfort  us,  He  must  feel  for  us ;  must  look  on  at  the 
sorrows  of  our  hearts,  not  with  the  cold  sharp  glance 
of  one  that  watches  a  strange  machinery,  but  as  with 
the  kind,  sympathetic  look,  and  the  beaming,  glisten 
ing  eye !  That  He  may  comfort  us,  He  must  know 


THE  ELESSED  COMFORTER.  57 

that  things,  little  in  themselves,  like  to  the  great 
world  or  the  great  universe,  are  very  great  to  us  poor 
human  beings ;  that  a  sorrow  that  never  will  be  heard 
of  five  miles  off,  that  never  will  be  known  of  or  cared 
for  by  a  dozen  fellow-creatures,  may  be  a  very  great 
and  crushing  sorrow  to  a  weak  human  heart.  And 
what  a  view  all  this  gives  of  His  character ;  how  near 
it  draws  Him  to  us  ;  how  well  it  makes  us  understand 
Him  !  Think  of  the  Third  Person  in  the  Godhead, 
—  think  of  God  the  Holy  Spirit,  —  all  interested  and 
concerned  about'a  poor  widow's  anxious  thoughts  for 
her  children,  —  all  interested  and  concerned  about  a 
little  child's  tears  ;  think  of  that  Almighty  One,  feel 
ing  for  a  parent  bidding  farewell  to  a  son  who  must 
go  to  a  distant  land,  —  feeling,  heartily  and  truly, 
for  the  poor,  faded  mourner,  weeping  over  the  green 
grave  !  O  Gracious  Spirit,  teach  us  to  know  Thee, 
even  as  we  are  known ! 

And  now  we  come  to  the  third  thing,  the  great 
thing,  implied  in  the  hopeful  name  which  our  Saviour, 
in  the  text,  gives  to  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  understands 
us ;  He  feels  for  us ;  and  now,  let  us  think,  He  com 
forts  us.  And  see  what  that  means.  It  means  that 
He  really  succeeds  in  doing  what  human  beings  strive 
so  vainly  to  do,  in  conveying  comfort  and  consola 
tion.  He  does  not  merely  condole  with  us ;  He  does 
not  merely  sit  down  by  us  and  share  our  grief;  He 
does  not  merely  pity  us ;  He  COMFORTS  us.  And 


58  THE  BLESSED   COMFORTER. 

what  skill,  what  delicate  tact,  what  mighty  power, 
what  unspeakable  tenderness,  are  conveyed  and  im 
plied  in  that  word !  You  know  the  kind  of  way  in 
which  human  beings  sometimes  think  to  comfort ;  and 
how  cold  and  hard  and  worthless  the  consolation 
offered  by  such  miserable  comforters  must  seem  to  the 
sorrowful  heart.  You  may  remember  how  Queen 
Elizabeth,  with  the  best  intentions  I  dare  say,  once 
wrote  to  a  mother  who  had  lost  her  son,  and  told  her 
that  she  would  be  comforted  in  time  ;  and  why  should 
she  not  do  for  herself  what  the  mere  lapse  of  time 
would  do  for  her  ?  It  would  be  felt  as  something  like 
a  mockery,  I  think,  that  hard,  heartless  saying.  It 
would,  in  a  true  heart,  only  make  the  present  sorrow 
the  sorer,  to  think  that  indeed  it  was  to  be  outgrown ; 
and,  to  the  credit  of  our  nature,  let  me  say  that  I 
believe,  that,  with  worthy  people,  great  grief  is  never 
quite  outgrown ;  it  may  leave  us,  but  it  does  not  leave 
us  the  men  we  were.  And  you  will  think  of  Cicero's 
friend,  writing  a  letter  of  condolence  to  the  Roman 
philosopher  after  he  had  lost  his  daughter;  and 
insisting,  by  way  of  comfort,  that  really  the  loss  was 
a  matter  of  no  great  consequence ;  asking,  almost 
indignantly,  how,  when  the  Republic  had  fallen,  Cicero 
could  be  so  much  afflicted  for  the  lo^s  of  a  single 
individual,  —  "a  poor,  little,  tender  woman : "  these 
were  the  consoler's  very  words.  But  it  is  not  in  these 
hard  ways  that  the  True  Comforter  does  His  work ! 
It  is  not  by  upbraiding  our  nature's  weakness;  it 


THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER.  59 

is  not  by  any  process  of  logic  that  that  Heavenly 
Messenger  accomplishes  His  blessed  end.  It  is 
rather  by  gentle  soothing,  we  cannot  say  how ;  by 
presenting  glorious  and  immortal  hopes;  by  breath 
ing  resignation  to  the  kind  will  of  the  kind  Father 
above  us ;  by  sanctifying  the  affliction  which  has 
fallen,  to  wean  our  hearts  from  this  troublesome 
world,  and  to  set  our  affection  above,  where  suffer 
ing,  and  sorrow,  and  change,  and  death,  are  done 
with  for  evermore!  No  doubt,  my  friends,  the  very 
fact  that  the  name  of  Comforter  is  so  dear,  implies 
that  Comfort  is  a  thing  we  shall  all  often  greatly 
need ;  no  doubt,  the  law  stands  repealed  as  yet,  that 
"  through  much  tribulation  we  must  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God ; "  but  remember,  brethren,  that  one 
great  good  of  sorrow  is  this,  that,  if  we  never  knew  it, 
—  if  we  never  knew  what  it  is  to  have  our  hopes 
blighted  and  our  hearts  wrung,  —  we  never  should 
know,  and  never  should  love,  as  we  ought,  that 
Blessed  One  who  begins,  carries  on,  and  ends  our 
Christian  life! 

And  so,  my  Christian  friends,  I  have  sought,  hum 
bly,  yet  most  earnestly,  to  set  before  you  one  blessed 
character,  one  blessed  work,  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of 
God.  I  do  not  want  you  to  think  of  a  vague,  myste 
rious  Spirit,  whom  you  can  little  comprehend  ;  I  want 
yo^u  to  think  of  the  kindly,  homely  Comforter,  that 
sits  down  by  a  bereaved  mother's  side  and  carries 


60  THE  BLESSED  COMFORTER. 

consolation  to  her  heart,  and  that  dries  the  mourner's 
tears !  I  want  you  to  remember,  that  in  every  kind 
heart,  and  every  soothing  voice,  that  is  in  man  or 
woman  over  the  face  of  this  world,  you  have  faint 
and  far  specimens  of  the  Holy  Ghost's  kindest  heart, 
and  of  His  gentlest  voice  that  speaks  to  the  believer's 
soul !  We  can  love  and  trust  Him,  Blessed  Sanctifier 
and  Comforter  of  all  God's  people,  as  we  never  could 
the  mysterious  Spirit,  seen  in  absolute  glory,  and  in 
no  relation  to  ourselves.  You  have  seen  how  much 
is  implied  in  the  name  of  Comforter,  of  kindly  sym 
pathy  ;  of  perfect  understanding  of  us ;  of  feeling  for 
us  in  all  we  feel.  Yea,  after  that  Name  like  which 
there  is  none  other,  after  the  Name  of  SAVIOUR  itself, 
there  is  no  more  precious  one  that  human  lips  can 
ever  speak,  there  is  none  at  which  human  knee  may 
more  fitly  bow  !  My  dear  friends,  let  us,  every  one 
of  us,  join  this  day  in  the  hearty  petition  :  Oh,  Com 
forter  of  Christ's  people  ;  oh,  Blessed  Spirit  who  art 
God ;  come  and  comfort  us  on  the  way  to  rest ;  and 
sanctify  us  till  we  are  meet  for  entering  there! 

Dependent  on  Thy  bounteous  Breath, 

We  seek  Thy  grace  alone  ;  — 
Through  childhood,  manhood,  age,  and  death, 

To  keep  us  still  Thine  own  ! 

Nov.  30, 1862. 


IV. 


MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF. 

;  And  when  he  came  to  himself." — ST.  LUKE  xv.  17. 

kOMETIMES,  simple  and  familiar  forms 
of  speech  express  a  great  principle, —  a 
great  truth,  and  one  not  distinctly  under 
stood  by  the  people  who  use  them.  We 
have  the  very  best  reason  to  believe  that  the  prophets, 
who  in  old  times  were  inspired  by  God  to  convey  His 
message  to  mankind,  did  not  always  fully  understand 
the  meaning  of  the  words  they  employed.  And  day 
by  day,  we,  my  friends,  are  all  of  us  accustomed  to 
speak  in  words  whose  direct  and  immediate  force  we 
understand,  but  which  imply  a  vast  deal  nio*e  than 
is  always  present  to  our  mind  when  we  speak  them. 
We  have  an  instance  of  this  in  the  text  to  which  I  am 
to  turn  your  thoughts  at  this  time.  It  is  a  familiar 
form  of  speech,  and  a  very  short  one  ;  and,  unlike  some 
of  the  idiomatic  phrases  which  you  will  find  in  our 
English  translation  of  the  New  Testament,  it  stands 
the  same  in  the  Greek  and  in  the  English.  So  it  is 
an  idea  that  suggested  itself  to  men's  minds  long  ago  ; 
and  it  is  a  form  of  words  that  was  in  common  use,  as 


62  MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF. 

among  us,  so  ages  before  we  were  born  ;  this  idea  and 
this  description  of  a  man  coming  to  his  sounder  rea 
son,  as  of  one  who  has  "come  to  himself."  And  in 
that  familiar  phrase  there  is  a  great  and  solemn  truth 
implied  and  suggested  to  us  :  the  great  truth,  that  man 
is  a  fallen  creature  ;  that  man  needs  to  be  set  right ; 
and  that,  in  order  to  be  set  right,  what  man  needs  is 
restoration  to  a  pure  and  excellent  ideal,  which,  for 
the  present,  is  lost  and  gone. 

You  will  be  told  by  the  etymologist,  who  investi 
gates  the  original  meaning  of  words,  that  the  first  and 
most  natural  reference  of  the  phrase  which  forms  our 
text,  is  to  the  case  of  one  who  is  recovered  from  a 
fainting-fit ;  when  such  a  one  is  restored  to  conscious 
ness  and  sense  again,  you  say,  He  has  come  to  him 
self.  Then  the  phrase  came  to  be  used  of  one  who, 
from  a  condition  of  mental  unsoundness,  was  brought 
back  to  reason ;  of  one,  in  whom  the  wayward,  fitful, 
miserable  estate  of  madness  was  by  God's  blessing 
made  £o  give  place  to  a  sound  mind ;  you  would  say 
of  him,  He  has  come  to  himself.  And  then,  by  a 
further  extension  of  its  signification,  the  phrase  came 
to  be  applied  to  deliverance  from  any  error  or 
delusion,  —  from  any  condition  of  mind  \vhich  is 
wrong  and  morbid  ;  so  that  you  might  say  of  one 
who  has  come  out  of  some  violent  and  degrading  fit 
of  passion,  or  who  has  been  emancipated  from  some 
foolish  prejudice  or  absurd  opinion,  that  he  has  come 
to  himself.  But  I  ask  you  to  observe,  my  friends. 


MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF.  63 

that  in  every  case  in  which  we  use  the  phrase,  it 
always  means  that  the  man  has  come  from  a  worse 
state  to  a  better  one.  You  never  say  of  a  man, 
doing  or  thinking  foolishly  or  wrong,  that  he  has 
come  to  himself.  But  if  a  man  be  doing  what  is 
right,  and  wise,  and  good,  after  having  done  what  was 
hasty  and  foolish  and  wrong,  then  you  say  of  him 
that  he  has  come  to  himself,  —  his  better  self  indeed, 
but  his  truer  self  too.  And  oh,  brethren,  how  much 
is  conveyed  to  us  by  this  deep  natural  belief  that 
underlies  this  common  phrase,  the  deep  natural  con 
viction,  that,  so  long  as  man  is  wrong,  so  long  as  man 
is  astray,  man  is  not  himself! 

And,  let  us  remember,  this  phrase,  bearing  this 
meaning  and  implying  so  much,  is  now  stamped  with 
authority.  We  are  entitled  to  take  it  and  build  upon 
it  all  it  will  bear.  It  has  the  mark  upon  it  that  en 
titles  it  to  pass  current  everywhere  as  a  genuine  and 
right  way  of  thinking  and  speaking.  Here,  in  the 
text,  we  have  words  which  proceeded  out  of  the  lips 
of  God.  Our  divine  Saviour  said  them :  May  God's 
good  Spirit  teach  us  rightly  to  understand  them  ! 
They  come  in,  these  comfortable  and  hopeful  words, 
in  that  blessed  parable  of  the  poor  prodigal,  for  which 
many  a  sinful  wanderer  has  thanked  God  upon  bended 
knees,  and  which  makes  us  understand,  in  sober  ear 
nest,  that  the  Almighty  Judge  above  us,  far  from 
desiring  our  punishment  and  destruction,  is  as  ready 
to  welcome  us,  when  we  turn  from  our  sins  and  go 


64  MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF 

Lack  to  Him,  as  the  kind  father  who  saw  his  poor, 
starved,  weary  wanderer  while  yet  a  great  way  off,  and 
ran  to  meet  him,  and  welcomed  him  to  his  heart  again 
without  one  syllable  of  reproach.  Now  mark  what  is 
taught  us  by  the  text,  coming  where  it  does.  The 
poor  prodigal  was  not  himself  throughout  the  earlier 
part  of  the  story.  He  was  not  himself  when  he 
came  to  his  father  and  asked  the  portion  which  he 
was  so  little  fit  to  have  or  to  use ;  and  he  was  still 
less  himself  when  he  turned  his  back  upon  his  home, 
followed  by  his  father's  anxious  forebodings ;  and 
even  less  than  that,  when  away  in  the  far  country, 
among  his  graceless  companions,  recklessly  wasting 
the  portion  which  his  father  had  worked  hard  to  win. 
But,  starving  in  the  mighty  famine,  sitting  hungry 
among  the  swine,  a  poor,  ragged  wretch,  whose  fair- 
weather  friends  had  cast  him  off,  to  whom  no  man 
gave,  and  for  whom  no  man  cared,  seeing  now  his  sin 
and  misery  and  want,  and  resolved  to  arise  and  return 
in  penitence  to  his  father,  content  if  only  received  as 
a  hired  servant  in  the  home  where  he  had  been  a 
favored  son ;  now,  my  friends,  the  Saviour  tells  us,  — 
now,  the  prodigal  has  come  to  himself! 

Yes ;  it  was  when  he  did  the  first  wise  and  right 
thing  that  we  are  told  he  did  at  all ;  it  was  when  for 
the  first  time  in  all  we  are  told  of  him,  he  reasoned 
and  acted  like  a  wise  man  and  not  like  a  fool ;  it  was 
then  that  the  wise  Saviour,  who  knows  what  we  are 
so  well,  said,  that  He  had  "come  to  himself!"  Surely 


MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF.  65 

there  is  something  hopeful,  as  well  as  something  of 
solemn  warning,  here.  We  have  fallen  far  from 
what  God  made  us:  we  are  sinful,  anxious,  miser 
able,  worldly,  helpless ;  yet,  through  Christ's  atoning 
work,  through  the  Blessed  Spirit's  operation,  we  may 
be,  and  if  God's  will  be  carried  out  in  us,  we  shall 
be,  made  perfectly  holy,  and  happy,  and  safe  again ; 
and  when  that  good  work  is  done  in  us,  it  will  not  be 
that  we  are  made  into  anything  more  or  better  than 
God  at  the  first  designed  us  for ;  it  will  only  be  that 
we  have  attained  the  true  Ideal  of  human  nature, — 
and  been  glorified  into  that  for  which  God  when  He 
made  us  intended  us ;  —  it  will  only  be,  my  friends, 
that,  in  the  noblest  and  truest  sense  of  the  phrase, 
we  shall  have  at  last  "come  to  ourself!" 

We  take  the  text,  then,  as  something  to  remind  us 
that  we  have  fallen  far,  but  not  fallen  hopelessly ;  that, 
great  as  is  our  present  depression  beneath  the  condi 
tion  in  which  our  race  was  created,  so  great  may  yet 
be  our  rise  ;  and  that  the  very  end  and  purpose  of  all 
Christ's  work  and  suffering  in  this  world  was  to  bring 
us  back  to  our  better  selves,  to  restore  us  to  the  holi 
ness,  happiness,  and  peace,  which  man  lost  when  man 
fell.  And  if  this  be  so,  my  friends,  the  subject  to 
which  I  ask  your  thoughts  is  not  one  wholly  sad.  If 
a  man  has  met  great  worldly  reverses  of  fortune,  if, 
from  having  his  children  in  comfort  and  affluence,  he 
is  obliged  now  to  see  them  poorly  fed,  and  barely  clad, 
5 


66  MAN   COME   TO   HIMSELF. 

though  he  may  oftentimes  look  back  upon  his  better 
days,  it  will  always  be  something  of  a  trial  to  do  so, 
if  there  be  no  hope  at  all  that  these  better  days  are  to 
come  back.  And  still  more,  if  a  man  have  fallen  into 
sin  and  shame,  and  if  he  be  always  sinking  deeper 
in  it,  oh  with  what  agony  he  will  remember  the 
time  when  he  was  innocent  and  esteemed ;  it  will  be 
unutterable  bitterness  to  look  up  to  the  elevation  he 
once  held,  now  lost  forever ;  he  will  know  how  true 
is  the  poet's  declaration,  that  "a  sorrow's  crown  of 
sorrow  is  remembering  happier  things  I "  And  if  it 
were  so,  spiritually,  with  you  and  nie ;  if  the  state 
of  sin  and  misery  in  which  we  are  by  nature,  were 
a  state  from  which  we  never  could  be  delivered ;  if 
the  pristine  holiness  and  happiness  we  have  lost 
were  lost  forever ;  if,  low  as  we  are,  we  must  always 
remain,  and  only  go  deeper  and  deeper  down ;  then, 
my  friends,  the  less  we  thought  of  the  glory  that  is 
gone,  the -more  content,  with  a  dreary  desponding  con 
tentment,  we  should  be.  But  for  this  end  Christ  lived 
and  died ;  for  this  end  the  Holy  Spirit  labors  day  by 
day,  that  we  may  be  delivered  from  the  ruin,  the  sin 
and  misery  in  which  we  are  all  sunk  by  nature,  and 
brought  back  again  to  that  holy  and  happy  estate  in 
•which  we  thankfully  though  humbly  recognize  our 
true  self.  And  in  all  we  can  discern  of  the  holiness 
and  happiness  in  which  we  were  made,  we  discern  the 
holiness  and  happiness  to  which,  by  God's  grace,  if  we 
do  but  heartily  consent  to  it  and  strive  for  it,  we  shall 


MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF.  67 

be  raised  up  again  !  It  was  a  beautiful  morning  that 
dawned  upon  our  race,  though  it  turned  soon  into  a 
cloudy  and  stormy  day ;  and  the  cloudy  and  stormy 
day  is  dragging  slowly  over  us ;  but  in  the  distant 
horizon  there  is  a  light  breaking,  which  shall  yet  grow 
into  a  day  more  glorious  and  bright  than  ever  shone 
upon  us  before,  —  a  day  whose  light  shall  never  be 
overcast,  and  whose  sun  shall  never  go  down  ! 

Let  us  remember,  then,  that  the  human  race  was 
itself  when  it  was  at  its  best.  Man  was  himself, 
before  he  fell.  And  let  us  look  back  to  whence  we 
are  fallen,  that  we  may  see  to  what  we  may  yet  rise 
again.  Let  us  try,  this  day,  to  make  out  the  linea 
ments  of  our  true  and  better  self,  and  to  compare 
these  with  what  we  are  now. 

I  shall  follow,  in  speaking  of  all  this,  the  order  sug 
gested  in  a  certain  treatise,  very  familiar  to  most  of 
us  from  our  childhood.  We  were  created  in  God's 
image ;  and  our  fall  brought  us  into  an  estate  of  sin 
and  misery.  Sin  and  Misery  :  in  these  two  things 
lies  our  lost  condition  as  we  now  are  by  nature ;  and 
let  us  compare  our  pre  erit  state  and  our  better  state 
in  these  two  respects. 

As  for  sin,  you  know  there  is  a  double  burden 
there.  Two  things  go  to  make  the  burden  of  our 
sinfulness.  There  is,  first,  what  is  commonly  called 
Original  Sin ;  not  that  I  wish  to  make  much  use 
of  these  phrases  of  technical  Theology ;  I  desire  to 
preach,  not  the  metaphysics  of  the  Gospel,  but  the 


68  MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF. 

blessed  Gospel  itself;  yet  probably  no  phrase  would 
more  compendiously  set  out  the  doctrine  as  to  that 
earliest  burden  of  sinfulness  we  bear.  So,  by  origi 
nal  sin  we  are  to  understand  the  sinful  nature  we 
inherit,  a  nature  which  very  early  begins  to  show  its 
bent  to  evil  rather  than  good ;  and  likewise  the  guilt 
of  our  first  parents'  primal  sin,  which  in  a  very  real 
sense  is  imputed  to  us,  that  is,  placed  to  our  account, 
so  that  we  have  to  answer  for  it,  and  suffer  for  it,  as 
it  is  a  matter  of  unquestionable  fact  we  do.  And  the 
second  thing  which  goes  to  make  the  burden  of  our 
sinfulne.-s,  is  a  thing  which  weighs  much  more  heavily 
upon  our  conscience  :  it  is  the  countless  .actual  sins 
we  have  done.  Now,  brethren,  mark  the  difference 
between  man  as  he  is  now,  and  man  as  he  was  when 
he  was  himself,  as  regards  this  double  burden  of  sin- 
fulness.  Our  first  parents  had  no  inherited  burden 
of  guilt.  They  started  fair.  We  do  not.  They  had 
not  to  .bear  that  load  which  all  of  us  have  to  bear, 
—  that  load  which  crushes  down  many  of  our  race, 
and  which  many  a  one  has  hardly  a  hope  of  escaping. 
They  had  not,  woven  into  their  very  constitution  of 
body  and  mind,  something  that  was  to  be  always  a 
clog,  and  oftentimes  a  sore  temptation.  And  then,  in 
that  happy  time  when  man  was  right,  he  knew  no 
actual  transgression.  He  knew  nothing  of  those  mani 
fold  sins  which  press  on  your  consciences,  and  press 
the  more  heavily  the  more  your  consciences  are  en 
lightened  ;  all  the  manifold  evil  you  have  yourselves 


MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF.  69 

thought  and  done  ;  all  the  good  that  you  have  failed 
to  do.  Now,  what  we  need  as  regards  all  this,  is  to 
be  brought  back  to  our  better  self;  brought  back  to 
where  human  nature  was  before  it  fell ;  and  Christ,  in 
His  great  atoning  work,  does  that.  He  puts  us,  in 
the  respect  of  the  sinfulness  into  which  we  are  fallen, 
in  the  condition  in  which  our  first  parents  were  before 
they  broke  God's  law.  There  is  indeed  one  glorious 
difference  :  He  puts  His  redeemed  ones  so  effectually 
in  that  condition,  that  they  can  never  leave  it  again. 
Not  the  unstable  and  speedily  lost  purity  of  the  days 
in  Eden,  but  an  enduring,  an  irrefragable  holine.-s, 
never  to  be  lost  more ! 

You  all  know  well,  doubtless,  the  double  operation 
whereby  Christ  takes  away  the  double  burden  of  sin- 
fulness  from  His  ransomed  people.  As  for  the  burden 
of  our  actual  sins,  —  as  for  their  responsibility  and 
their  punishment,  —  as  for  whatever  responsibility 
may  attach  to  us  through  the  original  load  of  guilt 
transmitted  to  us  from  Adam,  —  as  for  all  that,  He 
takes  it  away  by  bearing  the  punishment  due  for  our 
sins,  —  by  offering  Himself,  truly  and  actually,  as  a 
propitiatory  sacrifice :  a  sacrifice  so  wonderful,  so 
precious,  so  accepted  by  God,  that  it  can  blot  sin 
out;  separate  between  the  soul  and  its  responsibil 
ities  ;  open  a  way  in  which  the  just  and  holy  God 
can  receive  as  innocent,  can  adopt  into  His  family, 
the  sinner,  cleared  utterly  from  all  the  burden  of 
his  sins.  Repent  of  sin,  —  and  God's  Spirit  waits  to 


70  MAN  COME   TO  HIMSELF. 

help  you  to  repent;  believe  in  Christ,  —  and  God's 
Spirit  waits  to  help  you  to  believe ;  and  no  writing 
stands  against  you  in  God's  book  any  more.  God  is 
content  to  look  upon  you,  and  see  you  clear  and 
blameless,  as  Adam  before  he  fell.  "  Being  justified 
by  faith,  we  have  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ."  "  There  is  therefore  now  no  con 
demnation  to  them  which  are  in  Christ  Jesus." 
"They  are  without  fault  before  the  Throne." 

And  as  for  the  burden  of  our  sinful  nature,  —  of 
the  heart  within  us  averse  to  good  and  prone  to 
evil,  —  that  burden,  too,  through  Christ's  great  atone 
ment,  is  taken  away  by  the  working  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  Through  His  regenerating  power,  the  Chris 
tian  is  made  a  new  creature  in  Christ  Jesus ;  the 
perverse  nature  is  replaced  by  a  better  and  purer; 
a  new  heart  is  created  within  him,  and  a  right  spirit 
is  renewed ;  and  then,  day  by  day,  in  the  constant 
work  of  sanctification,  the  remaining  evil  is  further 
sapped  and  subdued  ;  and  the  blessed  fruits  of  the 
Spirit  are  made  to  appear,  —  the  love,  joy,  peace, 
and  all  blessed  graces,  which  never  grew  in  the  heart 
indigenously.  It  is  a  longer  work,  this,  you  know, 
than  the  single  act  of  our  justification ;  it  is  a  work, 
the  best  believer  knows,  never  fully  carried  out  in 
this  life ;  much  remaining  corruption  lingers ;  and  it 
is  the  most  advanced  Christian  who  feels  this  most 
deeply ;  but  still  the  work  is  doing,  and  on  the  whole 
always  progressing ;  which  will  leave  us  at  last  with 


MAN  COME   TO   IIIMSEL 


the  soul  un vexed  by  evil  and  temptatior 
when  he  knew  no  sin. 

And  thus,  my  friends,  as  for  the  sin  which 
the  first  great  burden  in  our  fallen  state,  you  see  that 
even  now,  and  here,  the  work  is  done,  in  part,  which 
shall  bring  us  back  to  the  sinless  state,  which  is  man's 
right  state,  —  the  state  in  which  man  was  made  at  the 
first,  and  to  which  every  redeemed  soul  will  be  re 
stored  again.  Even  here,  and  now,  in  part ;  but  when 
it  shall  not  be  here,  but  hereafter ;  not  now  dimly  and 
darkly,  but  then,  face  to  face  ;  when  this  weary,  sin 
ful  world  is  left  behind,  and  this  troublesome,  anxious 
life  done  with ;  and  when  not  merely  the  guilt  of  sin 
is  no  longer  resting  upon  us,  but  the  power  of  sin  is 
wholly  dead;  when  the  white  clear  page  shall  bear 
nothing  against  us,  and  when  our  entire  nature  shall 
be  pure,  as  God  is  pure ;  when  evil  shall  have  noth 
ing  more  in  us,  or  around  us,  or  over  us,  or  against 
us,  than  it  had  when  man  was  fresh  and  glorious 
from  his  Creator's  hand ;  surely  then,  indeed,  in  the 
fullest  force  of  that  most  significant  expression,  man 
shall  have  been  brought  back  to  himself! 

But  there  is  more.  The  Fall  brought  us,  not  only 
into  an  estate  of  sin,  but  into  an  estate  also  of  misery. 
And  we  remember  from  childhood  the  sad  but  too 
true  tale  of  the  items  that  make  up  human  misery. 
We  have  lost  communion  with  God.  We  lie  under 
His  wrath  and  curse.  We  are  liable  to  the  manifold 


72  MAN   COME  TO   HIMSELF. 

ills  and  troubles  of  this  life :  to  death,  which  ends  our 
sojourn  here  in  a  fashion  so  painful  and  lowly  ;  and 
then,  to  final  woe.  To  all  these  things  we  are  liable 
by  nature  ;  and  you  will  think  that  misery  is  not  too 
strong  a  word  to  express  the  condition  of  a  keenly 
sentient  and  an  immortal  being,  pressed  by  these. 

Looking  back,  we  discern  a  day  when  it  was  dif 
ferent, —  different  in  each  one  of  these  respects  which 
we  have  summed  up.  Once,  man  walked  in  com 
munion  with  God,  and  was  free  and  happy  in  that 
communion.  And  you  know,  brethren,  it  is  a  certain 
fact,  that  that  communion  and  the  love  of  that  com 
munion  are  gone  no\v.  Man,  by  nature,  shrinks  from 
God,  shrinks  from  Him  with  vague  mistrust  and  fear; 
—  the  old  way  is  lost !  And  when  we  are  awak 
ened  to  see  things  rightly,  we  feel  that  we  deserve 
God's  wrath  and  curse  ;  that  they  are  the  necessary 
consequence  of  our  sins  ;  that  we  have  nothing  to  say 
why  they  should  not  come  down  upon  us ;  and  how 
different  that  must  once  have  been !  In  all  Adam's 
consciousness  there  was  not  a  thought  or  idea  cor- 

O 

responding  to  these  things.  In  his  unfallen  state,  he 
would  not  have  known  what  any  one  meant  who  had 
spoken  to  him  of  the  wrath  and  curse  of  God  ;  and 
least  of  all  would  he  have  been  able  to  understand, 
till  sad  experience  taught  him,  what  is  meant  by  the 
pangs  of  an  accusing  conscience,  —  what  is  meant  by 
the  burden  of  remorse  ;  and  by  the  deep  overwhelm 
ing  sense  within,  that  God's  wrath  and  vengeance  are 


MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF.  73 

justly  due.  We  need  not  dwell  upon  the  sad  assem 
blage  which  makes  up  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to  in 
this  life :  the  anxieties,  the  cares,  the  disappointments, 
the  bereavements,  sickness,  pain,  weariness,  and  the 
load  of  forebodings  and  fears,  ending  only  with  death  ; 
and  then,  beyond  death,  something  worse  than  all. 
But  just  think  how  different  it  once  was  with  man  in 
all  these  respects !  No  cares  nor  fears  ;  no  sickness, 
no  want,  no  pain ;  no  death ;  and  not  the  faintest  sug 
gestion  of  following  woe ! 

And  now  let  us  thankfully  mark  how  the  Redeemer 
takes  away,  even  here,  in  part,  and  fully  hereafter, 
each  of  these  things  that  go  to  make  the  sum  of  the 
sorrow  into  which  man  came  when  he  fell.  The  lost 
communion  with  God,  He  brings  back.  Once  far 
away  from  God,  and  enemies  to  Him  through  wicked 
works,  we  are  brought  near  again  by  the  great  Medi 
ator,  —  the  Daysman,  who  can  lay  a  hand  upon  both. 
Christ  teaches  us  to  love  and  trust  God,  because  He 
makes  us  know  God,  —  shows  us  the  Almighty,  not 
in  the  obscurity  and  chill  of  His  awful  natural  attri 
butes,  —  not  as  the  angry  Judge  whose  laws  we  have 
broken,  —  but  as  the  reconciled  Father,  holding  out 
to  us  the  arms  of  His  love,  and  bidding  the  sinful 
wanderer  return.  Christ  "hath  declared"  God;  shown 
us  God;  shown  us  God  in  His  own  blessed  char 
acter,  and  life,  and  death  ;  and  the  more  we  know  of 
God,  the  better  shall  we  love  God,  and  the  more  con 
fidingly  trust  Him.  And  as  for  God's  wrath  and 


74  MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF. 

curse  under  which  we  lie  by  nature,  these  the  Saviour 
hath  taken  away.  He  has  Himself  borne  the  punish 
ment  of  our  sins ;  the  fiery  wrath  has  exhausted 
itself  upon  our  Substitute ;  and  if  we  do  but  accept 
Him  for  our  Substitute,  it  concerns  us  no  more.  The 
manifold  ills  and  trials  of  life  may  still  remain ;  but 
even  in  this  world  He  lightens  them,  takes  the  worst 
sting  from  them ;  do  but  trust  Him  as  we  ought,  and 
God  will  "  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is 
stayed  upon"  Himself;  and  even  where  these  ills  and 
cares  are  most  heavily  felt,  the  Holy  Spirit  makes 
them  work  together  for  the  soul's  true  good;  uses 
them  as  discipline  to  make  the  soul  meet  for  a  better 
and  holier  world ;  where  they  shall  be  felt,  because 
they  shall  be  needed  no  more.  As  for  the  death 
which  has  "  passed  upon  all  men  "  because  "  all  have 
sinned,"  we  know  that  "  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  has 
abolished  death  " ;  has  changed  its  essential  nature ; 
has  turned  it  to  the  messenger  of  peace ;  has  made 
it  the  dark  portal  which  we  bow  the  head  as  we  pass 
under,  and  lift  it  upon  the  farther  side,  in  the  pres 
ence  and  the  light  of  God !  And  there,  in  that  Bea 
tific  Presence,  man  will  be  happy  as  before  he  fell, 
and  safer  by  far ;  —  he  will  be  happy  with  a  bliss 
which  shall  be  absolutely  complete,  and  which  never 
can  be  shaken,  or  lessened,  or  imperilled  more  ! 

And  then,  indeed,  my  friends,  in  that  Golden  City 
for  which  we  look,  all  will  be  well  again  !  You  know. 
Christians,  that  the  work  of  restoring  us  to  the  early 


MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF.  75 

happiness,  so  soon  lost,  is  far  from  being  completed 
here.  In  a  measure,  Christ  restores  us  to  communion 
with  God ;  in  a  measure,  leads  us  to  love  and  trust 
God ;  yet  cares  remain,  and  death  awaits ;  and  fears 
may  sometimes  steal  in  of  what  lies  beyond ;  in  that 
undiscovered  country  from  which  no  message  comes 
back.  For  we  are  sinful  yet ;  and  so  long  as  we  are 
sinful,  we  never  can  be  perfectly  happy.  If  Christ's 
faith  and  love  be  in  us,  if  the  Holy  Spirit  be  working 
upon  us,  then  we  are  in  some  degree  restored  to  what 
we  would  be ;  but  we  are  not  yet  brought  to  our 
selves.  —  not  yet  brought  up  to  that  pure  and  happy 
standard  of  being,  which  man  can  recognize  as  his 
true  and  unfallen  self!  But  in  that  Better  Land, 
•where  sin  is  done  with,  and  sorrow  is  done  with ; 
where,  through  Christ's  blessed  work,  the  Fall  is 
blotted  out  in  both  its  dreary  parts;  where  man  is 
lifted  up  from  the  "  estate  of  sin  and  misery "  into 
which  he  fell ;  where  we  shall  be  holy  as  before,  and 
happy  as  before,  and  safe  as  never  before  ;  then,  breth 
ren,  there  will  be  a  glorious  fulfilment  of  these  words 
Christ  spake  of  the  Prodigal ;  then,  truly  and  com 
pletely,  man  shall  have  "  come  to  himself!  " 

Yes,  my  friends,  in  our  Redeemer's  presence  —  if 
God,  for  His  sake,  bring  us  there  —  we  shall  be  right ; 
and  right  for  the  first  time  in  all  our  pilgrimage.  It 
has  been,  since  we  were  born,  a  long  and  sad  series 
of  errors,  sins,  and  follies.  The  only  approach  to  a 
sound  mind  that  the  wisest  among  us  has  ever  shown, 


76  MAN  COME  TO  HIMSELF. 

has  been  in  going  to  Jesus  and  believing  on  Him,  if 
God  has  enabled  us  to  do  that.  And  th'ink  what 
blessed  light  this  casts  on  our  solemn  parting  from 
this  world.  You  remember  how  the  ancient  Greek 
poet  spake  of  one  of  his  heroes,  lying  dead  :  "  There 
he  lay,  great  and  broad,  having  forgotten  all  his  doings 
in  this  life."  Is  it  thus,  my  friends,  we  should  speak 
of  the  departed  believer  ?  There  lies  his  body,  dead 
and  cold.  Is  his  soul  away  from  itself,  in  a  swoon  of 
dim  forgetfulness  ?  .  Nay,  it  is  in  the  loving  presence 
of  God ;  it  is  clear  and  right  at  last ;  it  has  a  sense 
of  home  it  never  felt  before ;  kind  voices  welcome 
the  believer,  entering  where  he  is  now ;  dear  friends 
gather  round  him.  Think  you,  he  is  all  astray,  be 
cause  he  has  gone  forth  from  that  familiar  body  and 
these  accustomed  scenes  ?  Nay,  brethren  ;  in  a  truth 
never  known  in  all  his  life  before,  the  believer  has 
"  come  to  himself ! " 


V. 


THE   WELL-GROUNDED   HOPE. 

"  And  experience  worketh  hope."  —  KOM.  \.  4. 

k  O  says  the  great  apostle  Paul.  "  Expe 
rience,"  he  tells  us,  "  worketh  hope." 
Brethren,  what  does  your  own  life's  his 
tory  say  to  that  ?  You  know,  of  course, 
that,  when  any  general  principle  like  this  is  laid 
down,  —  when  it  is  asserted  that  a  certain  discipline 
produces  upon  the  soul  of  man  a  certain  effect,  —  the 
way  in  which  it  must  be  decided  whether  the  principle 
be  true  or  not,  is  just  to  ask  a  great  many  human 
beings  whether  they  have  themselves  found  it  so.  It 
is  a  question  of  fact ;  and  it  must  be  decided  by  the 
testimony  of  competent  witnesses.  What  we  have  to 
do  is,  not  to  argue  that  this  or  that  training  seems 
likely  to  work  this  or  that  result  upon  man's  soul  and 
heart.  The  question  is,  not  whether  experience  ought 
o  work  hope ;  —  many  things  in  this  world  ought  to 
do,  and  are  intended  to  do,  what  they  fail  of  doing. 
The  question  is,  Does  experience  work  hope  ?  And  I 
am  sure,  my  friends,  that  you  will  agree  with  me  that, 


78  THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE. 

at  the  first  glance,  the  apostle's  assertion  seems  a  start 
ling  one. 

"  Experience  worketh  hope."  Ah,  brethren,  take 
that  principle  in  its  largest  sense,  apply  it  to  the 
interests  of  this  life  and  this  world,  and  who  is  there 
that  does  not  know  that  the  apostle's  statement  would 
be  utterly  wrong  ?  You  have  not  found,  we  know, 
that  the  most  experienced  people  are  the  most  hope 
ful.  You  have  found,  that,  in  this  world,  it  is  the 
inexperienced  who  are  the  most  sanguine.  Look  at 
inexperienced  youth,  with  its  bright  and  glowing 
hopes.  Compare  it  with  age,  —  compare  it  even  with 
manhood,  with  its  sobered  anticipations  and  views,  the 
result  of  experience,  and  say  whether  experience  has 
not  wrought  disappointment  rather  than  success,  and 
despondency  rather  than  hope !  The  inexperienced 
man  is  all  buoyant  anticipation :  he  sees  no  difficul 
ties  in  the  way ;  he  looks  for  brilliant  success  in  life ; 
he  looks  forward  to  a  lot  of  perfect  and  unmingled 
happiness.  How  different  with  the  man  who  has  had 
some  experience  of  the  realities  of  life  ;  how  sober, 
and  how  modest,  are  his  hopes  of  earthly  happiness 
and  success !  Ah,  how  lie  has  tamed  down  from  the 
feverish  fancies  and  high  hopes  of  youth  ;  how  expe 
rience,  in  his  case,  has  wrought  anything  rather  than 
hope  !  Once,  life  was  to  be  all  romance,  and  fame, 
and  happiness.  Now,  he  knows  that  life  must  be 
sober  prose,  and  humble  work,  and  ceaseless  worry. 
Who  is  there  that  does  not  sometimes,  on  a  quiet 


THE  WELL-GROUNDED   HOPE.  79 

evening,  sit  down  and  look  back  upon  his  early  days 
and  his  early  friends,  and  think  sadly  of  the  failures, 
the  disappointments,  the  broken  hearts,  which  have 
been  among  those  who  all  started  fair,  and  promised 
well  ?  And  who  is  there,  but  must  have  sometimes 
found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  he  himself,  sobered, 
saddened,  taken  down  by  the  wear  of  life  and  its 
many  disappointments  from  the  vain  fancies  and  idle 
anticipations  of  that  time,  is  indeed  the  self-same 
being  !  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  there  is  one  sense 
in  which  all  after-life  may  be  said  to  be  a  disappoint 
ment.  It  is  far  different  from  that  which  it  was  pic 
tured  by  early  anticipations  and  hopes.  The  very 
greatest  material  success  still  leaves  the  case  thus, 
Though  you  reach  the  very  place,  the  very  lot,  on 
which  your  heart  was  set,  you  are  sure  to  find  it 
something  quite  different  from  what  you  fancied  when 
you  set  your  heart  upon  it.  Yes,  brethren,  when  you 
look  to  this  life  and  this  world,  you  might  well  think 
that  St.  Paul  was  mistaken  when  he  wrote  the  words 
of  the  text.  You  might  well  think  that  he  was 
attributing  to  experience  an  effect  the  very  opposite 
of  that  which  it  in  fact  produces.  You  would  say 
that  "  experience  worketh  "  sobriety  of  expectation  ; 
that "  experience  worketh  "  disappointment ;  that  "  ex 
perience  worketh  "  despondency ;  yea,  that  sometimes 
"experience  worketh"  despair  itself;  but  surely  never, 
never,  that  "  experience  worketh  hope  !  " 

Yes ;  and  you  would  say  right.    Earthly  experience 


80  THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE. 

sobers  earthly  hope.  But  it  was  not  of  earthly  ex 
perience  that  the  apostle  spake ;  nor  of  earthly  hope. 
There  is  no  doubt  at  all,  that,  the  more  you  know  of 
this  world,  the  less  you  will  hope  from  it.  The  more 
experience  you  have  of  the  things  of  sense  and  time, 
the  less  expectation  you  will  have  that  they  will  ever 
make  you  happy.  But  there  are  interests,  there  is  a 
world,  there  is  a  Being,  concerning  whom  the  more 
you  know,  the  more  you  will  hope  and  expect.  As 
regards  our  Blessed  Saviour,  His  grace,  and  precious- 
ness,  and  love  ;  as  regards  the  solid  peace-  and  happi 
ness  to  be  found  when  we  find  a  part  in  His  great 
salvation  ;  as  regards  the  sanctifying  and  comforting 
influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  as  regards  the  power  and 
prevalence  of  earnest  prayer ;  as  regards  the  rest  and 
refreshment  the  weary  soul  may  find  in  a  Lord's-day 
duly  sanctified  ;  as  regards  the  consolation  which  relig 
ion  can  impart  amid  earthly  disappointments,  sorrows, 
and  bereavements ;  as  regards  the  peace  that  Christ 
can  give  in  death ;  as  regards  His  power  to  take  the 
victory  from  the  grave,  and  to  turn  the  heathen  bury- 
ing-place  into  the  Christian  sleeping-place ;  as  regards 
such  things  as  these,  "experience  worketh  hope;"  the 
more  you  know  of  Jesus,  His  promises  and  His  grace, 
the  more  you  will  expect  from  Him  ;  and  instead  of 
experience  leading  us  to  say,  as  it  does  lead  us  to  say 
of  most  earthly  things,  "  I  have  tried  it ;  I  have  fairly 
tested  it ;  it  cannot  make  me  happy ;  I  shall  trust  it 
no  more, "  experience  of  God  leads  us  rather  to  say, 


THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE.  81 

"  I  know  Whom  I  have  believed,  and  am  persuaded 
that  Pie  is  able  to  keep  that  which  I  have  committed 
to  Him  against  that  day  ;  "  "I  love  the  Lord,  because 
He  hath  heard  my  voice  and  my  supplication  ;  because 
He  hath  inclined  His  ear  unto  me,  therefore  will  I  call 
upon  Him  as  long  as  I  live ; "  "  The  Lord  hath  been 
mindful  of  us  ;  He  will  bless  us  still ! "  Yes,  the  apos 
tle  was  right.  In  the  sense  in  which  he  used  the 
words,  and  in  the  matter  of  those  great  spiritual 
interests  of  which  he  was  thinking  when  he  used  the 
words,  true  it  is  and  unquestionable,  that  "  experience 
worketh  hope  ! " 

And  so,  my  friends,  it  comes  to  be  that  the  recep 
tion  which  such  a  general  principle  as  that  stated  in 
the  text  will  get  from  any  human  being,  depends 
mainly  upon  what  kind  of  being  he  is;  upon  what 
kind  of  thoughts  are  uppermost  in  his  mind ;  upon 
what  class  of  interests  hold  the  first  place  in  his  heart. 
Thus,  if  you  go  to  a  man  whose  whole  heart  and  mind 
are  set  upon  this  world,  whose  first  thoughts  run 
iipon  how  he  is  to  get  on  in  life,  —  upon  temporal  suc 
cess  and  earthly  ambition  and  happiness,  —  if  you  go 
to  him  and  tell  him  that  "  experience  worketh  hope," 
—  assuredly  he  would  say  to  you,  "  No ;  anything  but 
that  ! "  For  he  will  involuntarily  and  at  once  test 
the  principle  by  considering  whether  it  holds  true  in 
regard  to  those  things  about  which  he  thinks  most, 
and  most  earnestly ;  and  ke  will  feel  at  once  that  it 
does  not  hold  true  there;  that,  indeed,  as  regards 
6 


82  THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE. 

worldly  hopes  and  fancies,  you  could  hardly  say  any 
thing  more  thoroughly  false  than  that  experience  con 
firms,  and  satisfies,  and  encourages  them ;  that  in  very 
truth,  as  regards  worldly  things,  "  experience  work- 
eth"  the  very  reverse  of  "  hope."  But  go  to  the  man 
who  has  laid  up  his  treasure  above,  and  set  his  affec 
tion  there  ;  go  to  the  man  in  whose  heart  the  Saviour 
holds  the  first  place ;  go  to  him  who  feels  that  this 
world  is  the  dream  and  the  shadow,  and  that  the  wak 
ing,  earnest,  solemn  realities  that  concern  immortal 
beings  such  as  we  are,  lie  beyond  the  grave  ;  go  to 
such  a  one,  and  tell  him  that  "experience  worketh 
hope."  And  you  may  rely  upon  it,  he  will  agree  with 
you  at  once  ;  for  he  will  test  your  principle  by  consid 
ering  whether  it  holds  true  in  regard  to  those  things 
which  he  regards  as  the  most  solemnly  important ;  and 
he  will  remember  that  his  Saviour's  sufficiency,  and 
grace,  and  love,  often  tried,  have  never  failed;  that 
he  never  yet  has  found  that  the  Lamb  of  God  is  not 
able  to  take  away  all  sin ;  that  he  never  yet  has  found 
the  day  in  which  the  Blessed  Spirit  is  not  able  to 
comfort  and  sanctify;  that  he  never  yet  has  been 
made  to  feel  that  Christian  peace,  and  charity,  and 
joy,  are  all  a  fond  delusion ;  but  rather  he  has  found, 
in  his  own  experience,  that  the  longer  he  has  gone  on 
in  the  service  of  his  God  and  Saviour,  the  more 
entirely  satisfied  he  is  with  it ;  that  the  longer  he  has 
loved  and  trusted  the  Blessed  Redeemer,  the  more 
reason  he  sees  for  loving  and  trusting  Him ;  that  the 


THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE.  83 

longer  he  has  prayed,  the  more  heartily  and  hopefully 
he  can  go  to  the  throne  of  grace  in  Christ  Jesus' 
name ;  that  the  more  he  has  known  of  God,  and 
God's  service,  and  God's  dealings  with  His  children, 
the  more  thoroughly  and  confidingly  can  he  leave 
himself  and  all  he  holds  dear  in  his  God's  kind  and 
almighty  hand;  that  he  has  "tasted  and  seen  that 
God  is  good  " ;  that  he  needs  no  man's  testimony  to 
assure  him  what  kind  of  Master  he  serves,  what  kind 
of  Saviour  he  rests  upon ;  that  he  has  tried  for  him 
self;  that  he  has  learned  by  experience ;  and  that 
true  it  is  in  the  letter  and  the  spirit,  that  "  experience 
worketh  hope ! " 

So  you  see  that  the  same  life,  the  same  events,  the 
same  experience,  may  work  upon  the  soul  effects 
directly  opposed  to  each  other,  according  as  the 
soul's  own  nature  may  be.  If  this  world  have  the 
upperhand  in  the  soul,  then  experience  will  work  dis 
appointment  and  despondency.  If  the  unseen  world 
have  the  upperhand  in  the  soul,  then  experience  will 
work  hope.  And  it  is  not  a  thing  out  of  the  analogy 
of  nature  that  the  same  agent  should  work  contrary 
effects,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  thing  it  acts  on. 
You  will  think  of  the  often-recurring  comparison  of 
the  Middle  Ages :  Fire,  the  same  fire,  hardens  clay 
and  softens  wax ;  and  even  so  experience,  the  same 
experience,  works  hope  in  the  spiritual  man,  and 
disappointment  in  the  worldly  man. 


84  THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE. 

And  now,  brethren,  in  thinking  for  a  little  space 
longer  concerning  St.  Paul's  declaration,  that  "  expe 
rience  worketh  hope,"  let  me  suggest  to  you  two 
thoughts,  which  are  implied  in  the  apostle's  principle, 
and  which  are  the  great  reasons  why  the  apostle's 
principle  is  true. 

These  are,  that,  in  the  great  concern  of  religion, 
you  are  sure,  if  you  seek  in  the  right  way,  to  get 
what  you  seek ;  and  you  are  also  sure,  when  you  get 
what  you  seek,  to  find  it  equal  your  expectations. 

It  is  because  Christian  experience  proves  these 
two  facts,  that  Christian  experience  worketh  hope. 
And  it  is  because  worldly  experience  proves  the 
reverse  of  these  two  facts,  that  worldly  experience 
works  disappointment  and  an  unwillingness  to  cherish 
hope. 

First,  then,  in  the  great  concern  of  religion,  you 
are  sure,  if  you  seek  in  the  right  way,  to  get  what 
you  seek. 

Now  here,  at  once,  we  find  a  point  in  regard  to 
which  there  is  a  total  contrariety  between  worldly 
things  and  spiritual  things.  Who  is  there  that  needs 
to  be  told,  that  one  great  cause  of  human  disappoint 
ment  in  worldly  things  lies  in  this  ;  that,  however 
anxious  you  may  be  to  get  some  thing  on  which 
you  have  set  your  heart,  and  however  diligent  you 
may  be  in  using  all  the  means  which  you  think  tend 
towards  your  getting  it,  you  may  yet  entirely  fail  of 
getting  it?  You  may  be  eager  to  grow  rich;  you 


THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE.  85 

may  feel  most  vividly  the  many  comforts  and  ad 
vantages  and  refinements  which  wealth  can  buy  ;  you 
may  toil  early  and  late  to  accumulate  a  fortune ;  and 
yet  you  may  never  do  more  than  maintain  your 
family  in  decent  respectability ;  or  you  may  even 
know  the  bitterness  of  poverty  and  want.  You  may 
be  eager  to  gain  eminence  and  distinction ;  you  may 
think  how-  fine  a  thing  it  would  be  to  make  your 
kindred  proud  when  your  name  is  mentioned ;  to  be 
known  by  what  you  have  done,  or  said,  or  written,  to 
many  human  beings  who  otherwise  never  saw  or  knew 
you,  and  whom  you  will  never  see  or  know  ;  and  yet 
your  ambition  may  be  so  sorely  out  of  proportion  to 
your  abilities,  or  circumstances  may  so  hold  you  down, 
that  you  may  continue  nameless  and  obscure.  Indeed, 
I  dare  say  you  have  remarked,  that  those  people  who 
have  set  their  whole  heart  upon  any  particular  thing, 
are  generally  the  very  last  to  get  it ;  we  have  all 
known  of  poor  disappointed  men  who  all  their  life 
were  eagerly  seeking  for  some  desired  object,  and 
seeking  in  vain  ;  while  that  desired  object  was 
pressed  upon  other  men  who  cared  very  little  about 
it.  Yes,  in  the  concerns  of  this  world,  you  never 
can  be  sure,  however  anxious  you  may  be  to  get  a 
thing,  and  however  hard  you  may  work  to  get  it,  that 
you  will  get  it  after  all.  And  so,  as  you  gradually 
find  this  out  by  bitter  experience,  experience  will 
be  found  to  work  disappointment,  but  never,  never 
hope.  But  in  the  grand  concern  of  religion,  all  that 


86  THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE. 

is  changed.  In  the  grand  concern  of  religion,  if  you 
seek  diligently,  and  seek  in  the  right  way,  you  are 
sure  to  get  what  you  seek.  For  here,  the  promise 
holds  without  a  restriction  or  exception :  "  Ask,  and 
it  shall  be  given  you  ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock, 
and  it  shall  be  opened  to  you."  We  know,  of  course, 
that  every  promise  that  prayer  shall  be  answered 
must  be  understood  as  with  the  condition:  provided 
the  thing  prayed  for  be  for  your  own  real  good  and 
for  God's  glory.  And  as  we  never  can  be  sure,  in 
the  case  of  any  earthly  blessing,  that  it  is  for  our  own 
real  good,  and  for  God's  glory,  that  we  should  get 
it,  so  we  never  can  be  quite  sure  that  we  shall  get 
it,  even  in  answer  to  the  most  earnest  and  persever 
ing  prayer.  Not  health,  but  sickness,  may  be  the 
true  blessing  ;  not  wealth,  but  poverty  ;  not  success, 
but  disappointment ;  not  the  happy  domestic  circle, 
but  the  cold  and  lonely  fireside.  But  when  we  pray 
for  spiritual  blessings,  for  repentance  towards  God 
and  faith  in  Christ  and  a  sanctifying  Spirit,  we  may 
pray  with  the  absolute  certainty  that  our  prayer  will 
be  granted,  because  we  pray  with  the  absolute  cer 
tainty  that  we  are  asking  that  which  it  will  be  for 
our  good  to  get,  and  for  God's  glory  to  give.  And 
thus  it  is,  that,  if  we  seek  grace  and  mercy  and  peace 
in  humble  prayer  through  Jesus  ;  if  we  set  our  heart 
upon  spiritual  gifts  and  graces,  and  strive  after  them 
in  the  appointed  way ;  if  we  set  our  heart  upon  obtain 
ing  that  saving  interest  in  the  Blessed  Lamb  of  God, 


THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE.  87 

which  is  the  most  precious  of  all  possessions  ;  if  we 
set  our  heart  on  putting  down  the  evil  that  is  in  us, 
and  growing  in  holiness  day  by  day  ;  if  we  set  our 
heart  on  reaching  that  confiding  faith  in  God  which 
trusts  Him  with  everything,  and  in  that  finds  perfect 
peace:  oh,  brethren,  if  we  set  our  heart  upon  these 
tilings,  sure  as  God  liveth  we  shall  find  them  ;  if 
we  earnestly  wish  for  them,  and  strive  after  them, 
we  shall  assuredly  call  them  our  own  ;  we  shall  feel 
their  solid  reality ;  we  shall  feel  their  peace  in  us  day 
by  day ;  and  as  our  own  experience  assures  us  of  all 
this,  we  shall  feel  how  truly  the  apostle  spake,  who 
said  that;  as  for  God,  and  God's  grace,  and  God's 
promises,  and  God's  great  salvation,  "  experience 
worketh  hope  ! " 

Yes,  my  friends,  seek  spiritual  blessings ;  and  seek 
ing,  you  shall  find.  You  will  never  need,  here,  to 
resign  your  mind,  as  you  may,  to  sore  disappointment 
and  failure.  You  will  never  need  to  sit  down  in  sad 
ness  and  say,  —  I  longed  for  pardon,  and  I  prayed  for 
it  and  strove  for  it,  —  but  God  in  His  wisdom  saw 
meet  to  refuse  it  me  ;  I  longed  for  holiness,  I  prayed 
and  strove  for  it,  —  but  God  saw  that  it  was  not  good 
for  me,  and  He  said  I  must  do  without  it ;  I  longed 
for  Heaven,  I  have  prayed  and  striven  all  my  life 
for  it,  —  but  perhaps  God  sees  that  it  will  be  best  for 
me  never  to  enter  into  that  quiet  Home.  You  have 
said  the  like,  many  times,  over  the  wreck  of  your 
worldly  hopes.  You  have  sometimes  had  to  say, — 


88  THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE. 

Well,  I  set  my  heart  on  that,  and  I  toiled  for  it  hard 
as  man  could  toil ;  I  did  my  very  best ;  but  God's 
will  be  done,  I  shall  not  get  it,  —  1  shall  never  get  it. 
But  in  regard  to  the  great  essential  blessings  of  the 
Gospel,  experience  will  teach  its  lesson,  experience 
will  do  its  work ;  and  it  never  will  work  disappoint 
ment  ;  it  will  always  work  hope. 

But  we  said  that  another  fact  on  which  the  prin 
ciple  in  the  text  founds,  is,  that  in  the  matter  of  spir 
itual  blessings,  you  are  sure,  when  you  get  what  you 
seek,  to  find  it  equal  your  expectations. 

It  is  but  the  first  and  earliest  view  of  the  disap 
pointment  which  comes  of  longer  experience  of  this 
world,  to  regard  it  as  a  feeling  arising  from  our  so 
often  failing  to  get  the  worldly  thing  on  which  we  had 
set  our  hearts.  There  is  a  further  and  deeper  disap 
pointment  than  that.  It  is  the  disappointment  of  the 
man  who  reaches  the  place  he  longed  for,  —  who  gets 
the  thing  he  desired,  —  and  then  finds  that  it  will  not 
make  him  happy ;  that  to  possess  it  takes  off  the 
enchantment  which  was  lent  by  distance ;  that  it  is 
far,  very  far,  from  being  what  he  had  deemed  it,  pos 
sibly  through  long  laborious  years.  Ah,  my  friends, 
is  not  this  disappointment  felt  everywhere ;  does  it 
not  begin  to  be  felt  early  ?  When  you  were  school 
boys,  longing  for  the  holidays,  what  vague,  delightful 
visions  of  perfect  happiness  were  wrapped  up  in  the 
mention  of  their  name !  But  the  holidays  came,  as 


THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE.  89 

all  holidays  have  done  and  will  do,  and  in  a  few 
days  you  were  heartily  wearied  of  them.  How  many 
pushing  business-men  fancy  they  will  be  perfectly 
happy  when  they  retire  from  business  and  settle  in 
the  country ;  and  what  a  comment  upon  such  fancies 
is  the  fashion  in  which  retired  men  of  business  often 
haunt  the  places  of  their  former  toils  like  unquiet 
ghosts !  They  have  got  the  rest  they  wished  and 
worked  for;  they  have  got  the  pleasant  country  home; 
but  they  find,  with  sad  disappointment,  that  these 
things  are  not  at  all  what  they  had  fancied  them. 
That  is  the  way  of  this  world.  Only  to  possess  a 
thing,  takes  away  half  its  value  ;  the  coveted  emi 
nence,  position,  mode  of  life,  may  still  appear  desir 
able  enough  after  they  have  been  reached,  but  they 
are  not  what  fancy  had  painted  them  ;  and  as  worldly 
experience  tells  us  that,  it  works  the  reverse  of  hope. 
But,  brethren,  when  we  turn  to  spiritual  blessings, 
how  different  is  it  there  !  Once  gain  them,  and  they 
will  never  disappoint  you  !  They  will  never  fall  short 
of  the  bright  anticipations  which  you  had  formed  of 
all  they  would  be !  And  so  far  from  it  being  the  case, 
that  to  gain  them  and  possess  them  cuts  down  their 
value,  it  is  rather  true  that  only  those  who  have  actu 
ally  tried  and  possessed  them  are  able  to  understand 
their  worth.  Oh,  you  may  talk  of  the  peace  of  be 
lieving,  to  the  man  who  has  never  believed ;  you  may 
tell  of  the  preciousness  of  the  Redeemer,  to  the  soul 
that  has  never  turned  tc  Him ;  you  may  speak  of  the 


90  THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE. 

strong  consolation  of  the  Blessed  Spirit,  to  him  who 
lias  never  experienced  all  the  comfort  He  can  impart ; 
but  your  words  will  wake  no  response  in  the  heart ; 
they  will  seem  an  idle  tale ;  you  will  be  speaking  in 
language  hardly  understood,  and  not  felt  at  all.  But 
speak  of  such  things  to  the  soul  that  has  gained  them 
and  tried  them ;  speak  to  the  Christian  sufferer  of 
comfort  in  affliction,  vouchsafed  from  above  ;  speak  to 
the  humble  believer  of  the  Saviour's  kindly  sympathy 
and  mighty  power ;  speak  to  the  aged  pilgrim  of  the 
kind  guidance  of  his  God,  —  of  a  rod  and  staff  which 
shall  sustain  the  failing  steps  even  in  the  last  dark 
valley  that  must  be  trodden  ;  and  you  will  see  by  the 
beaming  face  and  the  glistening  eye  that  you  are  talk 
ing  of  things  thoroughly  understood,  and  appreciated 
by  an  experience  of  them  that  worketh  never-failing 
hope.  He  had  thought  that  peace  and  pardon  and 
joy  in  Christ  would  be  good  and  happy  things  when 
he  first  resolved  to  seek  them,  but  how  good  and 
happy,  how  satisfying  and  sustaining,  till  he  had  tried 
them  for  himself,  he  never  knew! 

Yes,  my  friends,  there  are  possessions  which,  when 
you  gain  them,  will  never  fall  short  of  your  expecta 
tions  of  them.  There  is  a  happy  home,  into  which 
the  soul  that  enters  will  never  look  round  with  disap 
pointment,  mortified  that  this  is  all.  There  never  was 
the  human  being  who  said,  I  was  earnestly  desirous 
to  gain  the  favor  and  friendship  of  God,  to  gain  the 
good  part  in  Christ;  I  strove  and  prayed  to  gain 


THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE.  91 

them ;  and  now  I  have  gained  them  I  find  they  are 
no  such  great  matter  after  all;  the  prize  is  hardly 
worth  the  cost.  God  is  indeed  my  father ;  Christ  is 
indeed  my  Saviour;  the  Holy  Spirit  dwells  within 
my  breast ;  and  I  know  that  heaven  is  my  home ;  but 
these  things  leave  me  still  unsatisfied  and  unhappy. 
No,  brethren ;  experience  never  brought  any  human 
being  to  such  a  mind  as  that.  That  is  the  strain  in 
which  experience  has  taught  men  to  speak  of  earthly 
ends,  after  they  were  won.  Many  a  man  has  said,  I 
labored  to  grow  rich ;  I  thought  I  should  be  happy 
then ;  I  have  grown  rich,  and  I  am  no  happier  than 
before.  Many  a  man  has  said,  I  labored  to  grow 
eminent ;  I  thought  I  should  be  happy  then  ;  I  have 
gained  what  I  wished,  and  I  am  no  happier  than 
before.  But  the  man  never  breathed  who  would  say 
the  like  of  the  blessings  of  grace.  The  man  never 
breathed  who  would  say  that  he  had  grown  weary  of 
his  Saviour's  love  and  of  the  Blessed  Spirit's  consola 
tion  ;  that  he  had  tried  them  for  himself,  and  found 
them  empty  and  vain !  Nay ;  but  rather  those  happy 
souls  who  have  experienced  most  of  the  pure  joys  of 
religion,  can  testify  that  there  is  a  solid  reality  about 
them  which  no  words  can  express ;  that  they  can 
compensate  for  the  want  of  all  earthly  possessions ; 
but  that  no  worldly  treasures  could  make  up  for  the 
loss  of  them.  Hear  what  a  Christian  man  once  said 
on  one  of  the  last  days  of  his  life  :  "  When  I  for 
merly  read  Bunyan's  description  of  the  land  Beulah, 


92  THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE. 

where  the  sun  shines  and  the  birds  sing  night  and 
day,  I  used  to  doubt  whether  there  was  such  a  place ; 
but  now  my  own  experience  has  convinced  me  of  it, 
and  it  infinitely  transcends  all  my  previous  concep 
tions."  What  say  you  to  that,  my  friends,  for  a  com 
ment  upon  our  assertion  that  the  blessings  of  redemp 
tion,  once  attained,  will  not  fall  short  of  that  which 
we  expect ! 

And  now,  as  our  meditation  draws  to  a  close,  we 
look  once  more  at  these  words,  very  few  indeed,  but 
very  rich  in  meaning,  wherein  the  great  apostle  tells 
us  human  beings,  sobered  even  if  not  saddened  in  our 
anticipations  of  what  this  life  will  yield  us,  that  "  ex 
perience  worketh  hope  !  "  No  doubt,  even  as  regards 
this  world,  this  is  true  to  a  certain  degree.  The  ex 
perience  of  many  days  has  taught  us  to  hope  that  the 
sun  will  rise  to-morrow;  that  these  short  days  will 
lengthen  to  the  golden  summer ;  that  the  seasons  will 
bring  back  the  flowers,  and  the  green  leaves  return. 
But  experience  has  not  taught  us  to  hope  that  there 
shall  be  to  us  fulfilment  of  the  vague,  bright  anticipa 
tions  of  childhood,  of  the  gay  hopes  of  youth.  We 
know  better  than  to  expect  very  much  of  this  world 
now  ;  experience  has  abundantly  taught  us  that  God's 
Word  is  right  when  it  tells  us  that  this  is  not  our 
rest,  —  that  the  home  and  the  happiness  of  the  im 
mortal  spirit  are  far  away.  You  may  reach  worldly 
success,  my  friends ;  I  heartily  wish  you  all  of  it  that 


THE  WELL-GROUNDED  HOPE.  93 

God  sees  good ;  but  however  happy  your  home  may 
be,  however  prosperous  your  lot,  experience  will  work 
you  bitter  disappointment  if  you  think  to  find  your 
soul's  abiding  portion  amid  the  things  of  sense  and 
time.  "  Thou  madest  us  for  Thyself, "  I  think  of  St. 
Augustine's  words ;  "  Thou  madest  us  for  Thyself;  and 
our  souls  are  restless  till  they  find  rest  in  Thee ! " 
But,  blessed  be  God's  name,  experience  can  work 
hope,  better  by  far  than  the  hopes  of  youth ;  calm, 
lasting,  sober,  yet  glorious  hopes  ;  hopes  of  possessions 
that  will  not  elude  our  grasp,  nor  wither  in  it ;  hopes 
that  will  sustain  in  life,  and  gladden  even  in  the  valley 
of  death's  dark  shade.  The  worldly  man,  doubtless, 
thought  he  was  saying  much  for  his  sanguine,  hopeful 
spirit,  when  he  said,  "  While  I  breathe,  I  hope."  But 
the  believer  can  say  more  than  that;  he  can  say, 
"  When  I  draw  my  parting  breath,  still  I  hope !  "  The 
experience  which  has  shattered  his  hopes  of  worldly 
happiness  has  taught  him  that  he  never  can  hope 
too  much  of  his  Saviour's  faithfulness,  and  love,  and 
power.  And  say,  brethren,  which  is  the  most  truly 
hopeful  human  being,  —  the  one  who  hopes  just  be 
cause  he  has  no  experience,  or  the  one  in  whom  expe 
rience  has  worked  hope !  Oh  that  we  may  so  know 
Him  in  whom  we  have  believed,  that  we  may  be  per 
suaded  that  He  is  able  and  willing  to  keep  us  against 
that  day !  Oh  that  we  may  have  that  experience  of 
our  God  and  Saviour,  which  shall  work  in  us  a  living 
faith,  and  a  never-failing  hope  ! 


VI. 
NOTHING  WITHOUT   CHRIST. 

"  Without  Me  ye  can  do  nothing."  —  ST.  JOHN  xiv.  5. 


HERE  never  was  but  one  being  who 
wore  the  appearance  of  human  nature, 
who  had  the  right  to  say  such  words.  It 
would  have  been  great  presumption  in 
any  mere  man  to  have  said  to  his  fellow-creatures 
what  Christ  here  says  to  his  apostles :  "  Without  Me 
ye  can  do  nothing."  It  has  been  said  with  great 
truth,  that  in  this  world  no  man  is  necessary ;  there  is 
no  man  in  the  world  whom  the  world  could  not  do 
without.  There  are  many  men  who  if  they  were 
taken  away  would  be  missed,  would  be  very  much 
missed,  perhaps,  by  more  or  fewer  human  beings, 
but  there  is  no  man  but  what  we  may  say  of 
him,  that  useful  and  valuable  as  he  may  be,  we 
might  sooner  or  later,  we  might  with  more  or  less 
difficulty,  come  to  do  without  him.  It  is  a  truth  this 
which  we  do  not  like  to  admit,  perhaps,  even  to  our 
selves  ;  there  is  not  one  of  us,  it  may  be,  but  cher 
ishes  the  belief  that  if  we  were  taken  away,  there 
would  be  some  hearts  where  we  should  always  be 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST.  95 

remembered  and  always  missed,  where  our  absence 
would  be  regarded  as  an  irreparable  loss;  —  we  like  to 
fancy  that  things  would  not  go  on  exactly  the  same 
without  us  as  with  us.  But  this  world  has  never 
seen  more  than  one  Being  who  could  think,  and  who 
could  say  with  truth  to  those  connected  with  Him, 
that  it  was  absolutely  impossible  for  anything  or  any 
person  to  make  up  for  the  want  of  Him  ;  that  it 
was  absolutely  impossible  to  go  on  when  separated 
from  Him.  We  come  at  last  to  live  on  just  as  before, 
though  we  may  be  parted  from  our  nearest  and  dear 
est  earthly  friends.  The  little  child  fancied,  when  its 
mother  died,  that  all  the  world  was  now  a  dreary 
blank,  and  that  without  her  it  could  "  do  nothing  " ; 
but  as  weeks  and  months  passed  on,  it  learned  that  it 
could  live,  somehow,  though  it  saw  a  mother's  face 
and  heard  a  mother's  voice  no  more  ;  and  after  years 
have  rolled  away,  the  grown-up,  busy  man  hardly 
seems  ever  to  remember  at  all  her  whom  the  heart 
broken  child  missed  and  mourned  so  sorely.  And  the 
mother,  in  like  manner,  may  feel  her  heart  almost 
broken  when  her  little  one  is  called  to  go  ;  may  fancy 
that  now  all  interest  is  gone  from  life,  and  that  with 
out  that  little  one  she  "  can  do  nothing  " ;  but  time 
brings  its  wonderful  easing  T  and  at  length  her  daily 
duties  get  back  their  interest;  and,  though  not  for 
getting,  she  gets  on  much  as  before.  And  it  is  the 
same  way  in  every  earthly  relation.  The  husband 
comes  to  do  without  his  dead  wife,  and  the  wife  to  do 


90  NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

without  the  departed  husband.  The  congregation  that 
missed  their  minister  for  a  while  come  at  length  to 
gather  Sunday  after  Sunday  with  little  thought  of  the 
voice  it  once  was  pleasant  for  them  to  hear.  The 
State  comes  to  do  without  its  lost  political  chief,  and 
the  country  without  its  departed  hero ;  and  we  learn 
in  a  hundred  ways  that  no  human  being  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  any  other  human  being.  We  may  in 
deed  fancy  so  for  a  while,  but  at  length  we  shall 
find  that  we  were  mistaken ;  we  may  indeed  miss 
our  absent  friends  sadly  and  long,  but  we  shall  come 
at  last  to  do  without  them. 

And  so  it  would  have  been  presumption  and  igno 
rance  for  any  mere  human  being  to  have  said  such 
words  as  those  of  our  text.  It  would  have  shown 
how  vain  an  idea  he  had  of  his  own  importance,  — 
how  far  astray  he  was  in  his  estimate  of  his  own 
usefulness  and  worth.  Here  we  find  our  Blessed 
Saviour  saying  to  His  apostles  on  the  eve  of  parting 
from  them,  —  saying  without  limitation  or  restriction, 
—  that  they  could  not  do  without  Him,  —  that  they 
could  do  nothing  without  Him.  He  sets  no  excep 
tion  to  the  broad  assertion  He  makes ;  He  tells  them 
that  they  could  no  more  do  without  Him  than  the 
branches  could  bear  frurT  if  cut  off  from  the  parent 
tree ;  that  at  no  place  in  all  their  wanderings  —  at 
no  hour  in  all  their  lives  —  could  they  ever  come 
to  miss  Him  less  than  in  the  first  pang  of  parting. 
They  would  not  even  be  able,  when  separate  from 


NOTHING   WITHOUT   CHRIST.  97 

Him,  to  do  as  we  can  do  when  first  parted  from  those 
we  love,  —  to  go  through  the  duties  that  cannot  be 
avoided,  in  some  kind  of  cheerless,  heartless  way. 
No ;  they  would  be  absolutely  paralyzed  and  power 
less.  "  Without  Me,"  he  says,  — "  without  Me  ye 
can  do  nothing  !  " 

Now  that  we  may  come  to  a  clearer  understanding 
of  our  Saviour's  meaning  when  He  spoke  these  words, 
let  us  think  what  it  is  that  we  mean  when  we  say  that 
we  can  do  without  any  person.  We  understand,  gener 
ally,  that  we  can  get  on  quite  as  well  with  our  duties 
and  our  enjoyments  when  he  is  away,  and  when  we 
are  without  his  advice,  his  help,  his  company.  We 
understand,  that  we  shall  be  just  as  happy,  though  we 
never  see  him  at  all,  and  that  we  shall  get  on  with  all 
we  have  to  do  just  as  well,  though  he  be  not  there  to 
advise  us  or  to  aid  us.  And  when  Christ  said  to  His 
disciples,  "  Without  Me  ye  can  do  nothing,"  He  meant 
that,  as  regarded  Him,  it  was  just  the  reverse  of  all 
this,  and  even  more  than  the  reverse  of  all  this.  He 
meant  that  they  could  not  be  happy  away  from  Him  ; 
that  they  could  not  do  the  work  to  which  they 
were  called,  away  from  Him ;  even  that  they  could 
not  do  a  single  right  thing  but  by  a  wisdom  and  a 
strength  which  they  derived  from  Him  and  through 
Him ;  that,  in  short,  in  the  largest  sense  of  the 
phrase,  they  could  not  "  do  without  Him."  "  Without 
Me  ye  can  do  nothing : "  and  these  words  imply 
something  quite  different  from,  something  very  far 
7 


98  NOTHING  WITHOUT   CHRIST. 

beyond,  the  mere  help  and  advice  which  one  human 
friend  can  give  another.  When  Christ  said  such 
words  to  His  disciples,  He  meant  far  more  than  just 
that,  when  He  was  gone,  they  would  miss  Him  so 
much,  they  would  feel  so  sunk  and  sad  without  Him, 
that  they  would  be  ready  to  sit  down  and  dream  over 
the  pleasant  past,  rather  than  set  themselves  earnestly 
to  the  toils  of  the  workday  present.  He  was  not 
thinking  just  of  the  sentimental  sadness,  (right  and  fit 
though  it  be,)  which  unnerves  us  and  unfits  us  for 
duty  when  first  separated  from  all  we  love.  It  would 
be  quite  an  exaggerated  description  to  say  that  even 
one  parted  from  home  and  friends  and  native  country, 
—  from  everything  he  cared  for  upon  earth,  —  was 
as  hopelessly  and  as  permanently  unfitted  for  duty  as 
a  branch  cut  off  from  the  vine  is  for  bearing  fruit. 
He  might  be  so  for  a  while  at  first,  but  he  would  get 
over  it ;  while  the  branch  parted  from  the  vine  bears 
fruit  no  more.  And  I  am  going  to  take  it  for  granted, 
without  stopping  to  prove  it  at  length,  that,  though 
the  words  of  our  text  were  first  spoken  to  the  apostles 
with  special  reference  to  the  great  work  which  lay 
before  them,  and  in  which  they  could  do  nothing  with 
out  Christ,  still  these  words  hold  true  no  less  of  all 
Christians,  in  all  times,  in  all  places,  and  in  all  duties. 
"  Without  Me,"  says  Christ  to  us  all,  —  "  without  Me 
ye  can  do  nothing." 

And  towards  a  further  understanding  of  what  our 
Redeemer  meant  when  He  said  these  words,  let  me 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST.  99 

remind  you  that  these  words  are  spoken  to  true 
Christians  only ;  they  describe  the  condition  of  true 
Christians  only.  Without  Christ,  it  is  a  fact  of  ex 
perience  as  well  as  a  doctrine  of  scripture,  they 
can  do  nothing.  By  the  very  necessity  of  their  be 
ing,  they  can  do  nothing  without  reference  to  Christ. 
Everything  tlu-y  do,  they  ought  to  do  with  an  eye 
that  looks  beyond  the  immediate  work  itself,  to  Him. 
There  should  be  a  reference  to  Him  in  all  their  com 
mon  toils.  For  His  laws,  for  His  sake,  they  should, 
they  can,  they  must,  do  the  least  as  well  as  the  great 
est  thing.  And  more  especially  as  to  spiritual  things 
they  can  do  nothing  without  Him.  They  can  do  noth 
ing  but  by  wisdom  and  strength  and  grace  of  His  giv 
ing.  Now  we  ask  you  to  remember  this  restriction 
on  the  general  meaning  of  the  text,  that  it  is  spoken 
to  true  Christians  only.  We  wish  it  were  universally 
true ;  we  wish  that  no  man  could  do  anything  with 
out  Christ.  Then  indeed  it  would  be  well  for  our 
straying  race ;  for  being  compelled  at  every  turn  to 
feel  our  need  of  Him,  we  might  be  constrained  to  seek 
earnestly  that  we  might  "  win  Christ  and  be  found  in 
Him."  And  it  is  indeed  a  sad  thing  that  so  many 
men  can  do  so  many  things  without  Him.  Without 
Christ  the  worldly  man  can  do  everything  he  does. 
Without  Christ  he  can  make  money ;  without  Christ 
he  can  push  his  way  onward  in  life,  till  the  unknown 
clerk  becomes  the  great  and  nourishing  merchant; 
"without  Christ  he  can  do"  many  a  thing;  without 


100  NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

Christ  he  can  live ;  without  Christ  he  can  die.  Yet, 
true  as  all  this  is,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  the  text 
may  be  applied  even  to  worldly  men.  The  great 
work  of  life,  as  you  all  know,  is  to  work  out  our 
salvation.  The  one  thing  needful  is  an  interest  in 
the  Atonement  of  Christ.  The  grand  thing  we  have 
got  to  do  in  this  world  is  to  prepare  for  the  next,  to 
get  ready  for  death,  and  judgment,  and  eternity;  and 
we  can  say  with  perfect  truth  that  the  man  who 
passes  out  of  life  without  having  done  that,  has  done 
nothing,  nothing  worth  the  reckoning,  —  or,  to  use  a 
common  phrase  which  aptly  enough  illustrates  our 
assertion,  nothing  to  speak  of.  Now,  without  Christ 
no  man  can  do  anything  towards  that ;  without  Him 
you  can  do  nothing  towards  your  own  salvation  ;  and 
so  without  Him  even  the  worldly  man  can  do  nothing 
that  is  worth  talking  of,  nothing  that  is  worth  count 
ing  as  the  work  of  a  being  destined  to  an  endless 
life,  nothing  that  is  in  the  least  proportion  to  his  im 
mortal  nature,  nothing  that  is  not  too  insignificant 
to  speak  of  when  we  look  upon  it  as  the  sole  doing 
of  a  being  that  has  left  life's  great  task  undone !  Ah, 
brethren,  though  the  worldly  man  may  think  he  is 
working  hard  in  this  world,  and  without  Christ  doing 
many  things,  he  will  own  upon  his  death-bed  —  he 
will  own  yet  more  when  he  enters  the  next  world  — 
that  he  has  done  nothing,  nothing  that  will  count  as 
anything  there  !  He  will  feel  then,  —  you  will  every 
one  of  you  feel  then,  if  you  never  felt  it  before,  — 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST.  101 

that  in  the  highest  and  truest  sense,  without  Christ 
any  of  us  "  can  do  nothing ! "  Oh,  brethren,  think  of 
the  man  that  never  believed  in  Christ,  entering  the 
next  world ;  and  there  called  to  give  an  account  of 
his  stewardship,  —  asked  what  has  he  done  :  do  you 
think  he  would  dare,  when  bidden  to  render  "  an 
account  of  himself  to  God,"  to  answer,  —  I  made  so 
many  thousand  pounds ;  I  left  a  name  that  people  on 
earth  are  talking  of;  I  lived  a  cheerful,  comfortable 
life  !  Or  would  he  not  feel  that  it  would  be  insulting 
the  Almighty,  even  to  mention  such  things  as  these  as 
the  doings  of  his  time  on  earth ;  would  he  not  feel  all 
these  things  vanishing  like  shadows  in  the  light  of 
eternity ;  would  he  not  feel  that  all  these  things  go 
for  nothing  there ;  would  he  not  feel  that  if  he  has  not 
"  worked  out  his  salvation,"  and  believed  savingly  in 
Christ ;  then  in  very  deed  he  has  "  done  nothing !  " 

It  must  be  evident  at  once,  that,  since  without 
Christ  we  can  do  nothing,  it  would  be  an  endless 
task  were  I  to  set  myself  to  pointing  out  to  you  the 
various  things  which  without  Christ  you  cannot  do. 
A  list  of  such  things  would  be  a  list  of  all  things 
which  are  worth  reckoning  as  the  doing  of  a  rational 
and  immortal  being.  Still  it  has  seemed  that  the 
most  profitable  way  in  which  we  can  direct  our 
thoughts  in  dwelling  on  this  subject,  will  be  to  look 
at  one  or  two  selected  things,  in  the  case  of  which  we 
more  especially  feel  that  we  cannot  do  them  without 
Christ. 


102  NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

And  it  is  hardly  needful  to  remind  you,  as  the  first 
and  most  important  of  these,  of  the  working  out  of 
our  salvation,  the  first  and  greatest  work  which  every 
human  being  has  to  do.  I  need  not  tell  you  that 
without  Christ  we  can  do  nothing  as  regards  that. 
You  know  that  St.  Paul  indeed  tells  us  to  "work 
out  our  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling  "  ;  and 
if -you  stopped  reading  the  verse  at  that  point,  you 
might  think  that  this  was  something  which  we  could 
do  for  ourselves,  in  our  own  strength  and  wisdom  ; 
but  as  if  to  prevent  our  fancying  anything  so  far 
wrong,  the  apostle  goes  on  to  add,  "  For  it  is  God 
that  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  His 
good  pleasure."  To  obtain  the  forgiveness  of  our 
sins,  —  to  obtain  the  purification  of  our  heart,  the 
sanctification  of  our  nature,  —  is  a  thing  towards 
which  we  can  do  nothing  without  Christ.  It  is  the 
work  of  God's  grace  if  we  are  even  brought  so  far 
as  to  feel  that  something  must  be  done  to  make  our 
peace  with  Him,  —  that  we  must  see  to  it  in  earnest 
how  we  are  to  escape  from  woe,  and  rise  to  heaven 
when  we  come  to  die.  But  when  once  the  soul  is 
brought  to  this  state  of  anxious  inquiry,  —  when  it 
comes  to  put  the  momentous  question,  "  What  must 
I  do  to  be  saved,"  —  it  must  feel  indeed  that  without 
Christ  it  can  do  nothing.  There  is  no  pardon,  no 
peace,  no  hope,  away  from  Him.  Oh,  brethren,  just 
for  a  moment  think  of  it :  what  could  we  do,  if  we 
were  convinced  of  sin  by  God's  Spirit,  —  if  we  were 


NOTHING  WITHOUT   CHRIST.  103 

made  to  feel  that  we  had  sinned  against  God  times 
without  number,  —  if  we  read  in  our  Bibles  the  fear 
ful  denouncements  of  God's  wrath  against  sinners,  — 
and  if  we  knew  nothing  of  Christ  or  of  salvation 
through  Him !  What  could  we  do  without  Him  ? 
Where  could  we  turn  ?  The  first  thing  that  perhaps 
we  should  think  of  would  be  an  external  reformation, 
—  would  be  to  set  ourselves  to  avoid  sin  for  the  fu 
ture  ;  but  even  if  a  week's  or  day's  trial  did  not  suffice 
to  convince  us  that  we  cannot  avoid  sin,  —  even  if  we 
did  not  read  in  our  Bibles  that  "  whatsoever  is  not  of 
faith,  is  sin,"  and  so  that  every  action  is  sinful  which 
is  done  without  Christ,  —  even  if  we  could  begin  in 
our  own  strength  to-day,  and  never  sin  more  till  we 
die,  —  how  are  we  to  blot  out  our  past  sins  ?  What 
can  we  do  by  ourselves  towards  having  them  forgiven  ? 
It  is  trite  and  commonplace  at  this  time  of  day  to 
repeat,  that  you  do  not  pardon  the  criminal  his  past 
offences,  merely  because  he  promises  to  offend  no  more. 
And  it  is  sad,  indeed,  to  think  what  shifts  men  have 
had  recourse  to  when  they  tried  to  get  pardon  for 
past  sin  without  Christ.  It  is  sad  to  think  of  the 
punishments  they  have  heaped  upon  themselves  on 
earth,  to  anticipate  and  escape  God's  wrath  in  another 
world  ;  of  the  penances,  the  scourgings,  the  fastings, 
the  cold  and  nakedness,  of  the  bed  of  thorns,  of  the 
weary  pilgrimages,  which  even  men  calling  themselves 
Christians  have  resorted  to,  when  they  sought  "  with 
out  Christ  to  do  "  something  towards  their  soul's  sal- 


104  NOTHING   WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

vation.  Oh  brethren,  there  never  were  people  more  in 
earnest  to  get  the  pardon  of  their  sins,  and  to  get  a 
title  to  happiness  when  they  died,  than  the  poor  be 
nighted  Hindoos  who  have  climbed  over  the  sharp 
flints  on  their  bare  knees,  —  who  have  severed  them 
selves  from  all  human  nature  loves,  and  heaped  upon 
themselves  all  it  loathes  and  shrinks  from,  that  thus 
they  might  get  mercy  from  God.  But  oh !  without 
Christ  what  is  all  this  worth  ?  Unless  that  Bleeding 
Lamb  of  God  takes  away  our  sins,  they  never  can  be 
taken  away,  —  they  must  cling  to  us  forever.  Unless 
Christ  "  tastes  death  "  for  us,  we  must  drink  the  bitter 
cup  ourselves ;  unless  He  bears  the  penalty  of  the 
broken  law,  we  ourselves  must  bear  it  in  woe  forever  ! 
Without  Him,  —  without  His  atonement,  His  grace, 
His  Spirit,  we  can  do  nothing  towards  our  own  sal 
vation  ;  and  when  our  eyes  are  opened  to  our  sinful- 
ness,  we  must  just  sit  down  in  despair!  Only  His 
blood  can  wash  away  our  sins  ;  only  His  righteousness 
can  justify  us ;  only  His  Spirit  can  sanctify  us  ;  and 
the  further  the  believer  has  travelled  on  his  heaven 
ward  path,  the  more  deeply  he  feels  how  truly  the 
Redeemer  spake  the  words :  "  Without  Me  ye  can 
do  nothing!" 

I  desire  to  appeal  to  the  experience  of  Christ's 
own  people  when  I  mention  a  thing  in  which  we 
learn  day  by  day  that  without  Him  we  can  do  noth 
ing.  This  is  joining  in  His  worship,  and  partaking 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST.  105 

of  His  ordinances.  I  would  more  especially  allude 
to  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  You  all 
know  that  without  any  help  from  Christ  beyond  the 
common  aids  of  His  providence,  a  man  may  come  to 
church  on  a  Sunday,  and  sit  down  there,  and  join  in 
the  psalm,  and  look  devout  at  the  prayer,  and  listen  to 
the  sermon.  And  you  know,  too,  that  in  like  manner 
we  may  by  ourselves  come  to  the  communion-table 
and  partake  of  the  elements  which  represent  the 
body  and  blood  of  the  crucified  Redeemer.  But  I 
am  quite  sure,  my  Christian  friends,  that  you  have 
learned  by  experience  that,  in  such  things  as  these, 
without  Christ  you  can  do  nothing.  Mere  under 
standing  without  feeling, —  mere  head  without  heart, 
—  will  not  do  in  the  worship  and  in  the  ordinances  of 
God.  And  it  is  no  skill  of  ours  that  can  waken  in 
our  bosoms  that  unearthly  fire,  that  glow  of  heartfelt 
devotion,  which  we  have  sometimes  felt  as  we  sang 
God's  praises  or  poured  out  our  hearts  in  prayer,  and 
which  made  us  know  what  it  is  that  is  meant  by  "  wor 
shipping  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth."  I  am  quite 
certain  that  the  experience  of  every  true  Christian 
must  have  taught  him  to  feel  when  he  begins  to  offer 
prayer,  "  Now  here  is  something  which  by  myself  I 
cannot  do.  Here  I  arn  endeavoring  to  do  something 
in  which  without  Christ  I  can  do  nothing.  It  depends 
entirely  on  whether  He  is  with  me  or  not  whether 
I  am  to  feel  my  heart  warmed  and  my  soul  lifted 
up  to  God  in  confiding  happiness  ;  or  whether  I  am 


106  NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

to  feel  depressed  and  gloomy,  even  as  the  sunshiny 
landscape  grows  chill  and  dark  when  the  sun  is  hid 
den  by  a  cloud."  How  cold  and  dreary  and  heartless 
the  worship  of  God's  house  would  be  without  Christ ! 
What  a  lifeless  form  is  the  Holy  Sacrament,  unless 
Christ  meet  with  us  at  His  Table  !  I  doubt  not,  my 
Christian  friends,  that  sometimes  when  you  have  been 
holding  communion  with  Christ  in  prayer,  even  on 
the  bed  of  pain,  or  through  the  long  watches  of  the 
sleepless  night,  you  have  felt  a  peace  and  a  happiness 
which  you  would  not  give  away  for  all  the  wealth  of 
the  world.  And  sometimes  —  would  to  God  it  were 
always  —  you  have  felt  the  Blessed  Spirit  breathing 
on  your  soul  as  you  bent  the  knee  and  as  you  poured 
out  all  your  heart  with  a  child-like  confidence  in  your 
heavenly  Father's  ear,  you  have  felt  that  Christ  in 
very  deed  was  with  you.  Or  in  the  house  of  prayer, 
under  the  simple  preaching  of  the  unsearchable  riches 
of  Christ,  you  have  felt  your  soul  drawn  out  towards 
Him  in  a  way  which  is  to  be  felt  but  not  described. 
Or  at  the  Redeemer's  table  you  have  held  holy  com 
munion  with  Him,  —  you  have  been  able  to  cast  all 
your  cares  upon  Him,  to  leave  yourself  unreservedly 
in  His  hands,  —  to  realize  the  meaning  and  to  take 
the  peace  of  the  blessed  promise  so  often  forgot,  that 
"  all  things  shall  work  together  for  good  to  those  who 
love  Him  " ;  and  then  upon  the  mount  of  ordinances 
you  have  felt  so  peaceful  and  so  happy,  that  you 
almost  wished,  like  the  apostles  on  the  hill  of  the 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST.  107 

Transfiguration,  that  here  you  might  build  your  taber 
nacle,  and  go  down  no  more  from  that  pleasant  eleva 
tion  above  your  every-day  temptations,  and  sins,  and 
sorrows.  And  I  doubt  not,  too,  my  believing  friends, 
that  in  your  experience  there  have  been  seasons  of 
desertion,  when  the  Saviour's  felt  presence  was  with 
drawn  ;  when  your  prayers  \vere  offered  with  little 
heart  or  comfort ;  when  you  no  longer  felt  the  house 
of  God  like  the  gate  of  heaven ;  when  in  the  world 
within  the  breast  it  was  all  dreary  and  desolate.  And 
yet,  sad  as  these  seasons  are,  let  us  thank  God  for 
them.  If  it  were  not  that  they  sometimes  come, 
\ve  should  forget  how  simply  dependent  we  are  upon 
Christ  for  all  the  comfort  and  benefit  of  His  ordinan 
ces  and  His  service ;  and  thus  we  would  welcome  the 
dreariest  night  so  only  it  made  us  feel,  more  deeply 
than  ever  we  had  felt  before,  that  "  without  Christ  we 
can  do  nothing ! "  Oh,  surely  in  a  higher  sense  than 
even  that  of  the  sublimest  of  poets,  the  believer  may 
take  up  his  words  :  "  I  feel  the  stirrings  of  a  gift 
divine ;  Within  my  bosom  glows  unearthly  fire,  Lit 
by  no  skill  of  mine ! " 

We  might  go  on  to  point  out  to  you,  my  friends, 
several  other  passages  in  our  life  in  which  we  can  do 
nothing  without  Christ ;  we  might  point  out  to  you 
how  union  with  Him  is  the  source  of  every  good  deed 
that  deserves  the  name  ;  how  His  presence  is  the 
thing  that  shall  "save  us  from  the  hour  of  tempta- 


108  NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

tion  " ;  that  shall  comfort  us  under  all  our  trials,  and 
strengthen  us  for  all  our  duties,  and  promote  our 
growing  sanctification  and  meetness  for  His  immedi 
ate  presence  above.  We  might  point  out  to  you  how 
"  without  Christ  we  can  do  nothing  "  towards  reclaim 
ing  the  spiritual  "  waste  places  of  the  earth,"  —  how 
His  name,  His  Cross,  His  Gospel,  must  be  the 
weapon  in  the  hand  of  the  missionary  toiling  in  for 
eign  lands,  and  the  beginning  and  end  of  all  preaching 
that  can  ever  save  or  comfort  immortal  souls.  We 
might  show  you  how  the  utter  failure  of  every  plan 
that  ever  was  thought  of,  for  purifying  human  morals, 
or  elevating  human  minds,  without  reference  to  the 
work  and  atonement  of  Christ,  reads  like  a  comment 
upon  our  text,  as  though  our  Saviour  cried  aloud  to 
all  moralists  and  philanthropists,  "  Your  purpose  in 
deed  is  good ;  but  you  are  taking  the  wrong  way  to 
bring  it  about ;  for  without  Me  ye  can  do  nothing  !  " 
We  might  remind  you  of  the  memorable  confession 
of  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of  Scottish  divines,  that 
for  twelve  years  he  preached  morality  without  preach 
ing  Christ,  and  that  all  that  time  his  preaching  (elo 
quent  and  vehement  as  it  was)  had  not  the  weight 
of  a  feather  upon  the  moral  habits  of  his  parishioners  ; 
and  that  at  length  he  learned  that  to  preach  Christ 
crucified  and  a  sanctifying  Spirit  was  the  single  way 
in  which  men's  hearts  might  be  purified  and  their  con 
duct  improved ;  and  that  "  without  Christ  he  could 
do  nothing ! "  But  we  have  not  time  to  follow  up 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST.  109 

these  tracks  of  thought  which  I  have  thus  indicated , 
and  without  pursuing  them,  let  us,  before  we  con 
clude,  lead  your  thoughts  to  one  point  in  the  history 
of  all  of  us,  in  which,  above  all  others,  we  cannot  do 
without  Christ. 

It  is  when  we  come  to  die.  And  very  awful,  my 
friends,  it  is  to  me,  when  thus  on  a  quiet  day  of  ordi 
nary  life  I  remember  that  even  now  the  hour  is  on 
the  wing  that  shall  bid  this  heart  cease  from  its  long 
beating  —  when  I  remember  that  somewhere  —  but 
where  I  cannot  tell  —  there  is  a  little  corner  of  the 
world  that  is  "  appointed  "  to  be  my  grave.  The  tree 
is  grown  that  shall  yield  to  each  of  these  warm  living 
forms  its  last  "narrow  house  and  dark."  I  know 
well,  indeed,  how  on  the  page  of  inspiration,  and  in 
the  writings  of  fallible  men,  alike  we  find  much  men 
tion  of  the  peace  in  which  the  Christian  dies.  By  a 
peculiar  emphasis,  "  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace ; " 
and  many  besides  Balaam,  who  cared  little  for  living 
the  life  of  the  righteous,  have  joined  in  his  wish  that 
like  the  righteous  they  might  die.  Every  instance  in 
nature  that  seems  to  betoken  gentle  decay,  and  pen 
sive  rather  than  painful  parting,  has  been  taken  as 
the  type  of  the  Christian's  waning  life,  and  dawning 
immortality.  The  fading  light  of  a  summer  evening, 
that  with  all  of  stillness,  and  sweetness,  and  repose, 
melts  away  in  the  western  horizon,  so  that  we  scarce 
can  see  it  going,  till  we  look  and  it  is  gone ;  the 
weary,  worn-out  winds  that  expire  so  softly,  scarcely 


110  NOTHING  WITHOUT   CHRIST. 

stirring  the  lightest  leaf  as  they  sink  away  ;  the 
bright  stars,  that  looked  down  all  night  long  upon  the 
sleeping  world,  till  in  the  rosy  dawn  their  beams  grew 
pale,  and  they  died  in  daylight ;  —  all  these  have 
typed  the  gentle  going  of  the  parting'  breath,  the  tran 
quil  ebbing  of  the  tide  of  life,  the  peaceful  severance 
from  this  troublesome  world.  And  yet,  with  all  this, 
it  remains  a  very  solemn  and  awful  thing  to  die.  Do 
you  not  know  this,  even  you  who  have  seen  death 
come  in  his  least  repulsive  form,  —  mothers,  who  have 
seen  the  little  eyes  close  upon  this  world,  and  the 
busy  hands  folded  over  the  pulseless  heart !  It  is  not 
merely  the  pain,  the  weariness,  the  terrible  sinking  of 
heart  and  strength,  that  each  of  us  will  most  probably 
feel  then  ;  —  though  no  one  who  knows  anything 
about  death  as  it  is  will  ever  speak  lightly  of  even 
these  things  about  it ;  it  is  rather  the  solemn  feeling 
that  we  have  fairly  done  with  the  world  we  have 
known  so  long,  —  that  "  this  is  the  last  of  earth," — 
that  we  are  to  part  forever  from  everything  we  knew 
and  valued  here,  and  to  enter  "  that  undiscovered  coun 
try  from  whose  bourne  no  traveller  returns,"  —  to 
launch  away  into  an  untried,  unknown  state  of  being, 
—  a  naked,  solitary,  shrinking  soul !  Kind  friends  may 
bear  us  company  to  eternity's  threshold,  but  there  they 
must  leave  us,  and  we  must  go  on  alone.  The  little 
child,  that  when  the  dark  shadow  fell  upon  it  thought 
it  was  the  night  that  had  so  often  composed  it  to  gen 
tle  slumber  with  a  mother  bending  over  it,  and  whose 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

last  little  words  were  Good-night,  good-night, 
—  would  waken  up  on  that  distant  shore  alone  for 
first  time  in  its  short  life,  with  no  kind  mother  near. 
I  have  often  thought,  as  I  have  stood  by  the  bed  of 
the  dying,  how  different  all  earthly  things  must  look 
to  them,  from  what  they  appear  to  us  in  our  days  of 
health  and  strength  ;  how  perfectly  insignificant  many 
a  thing  must  seem,  to  which  now  we  are  ready  to 
attach  great  importance,  —  all  such  things  as  worldly 
wealth,  and  position,  and  reputation ;  and  I  have 
thought  then  that  if  it  were  not  for  Christ,  and  for  the 
consolations  and  hopes  of  His  gospel,  it  would  indeed 
be  a  tremendously  awful  thing  to  die  !  Men  may 
fancy  that  they  can  do  without  Christ,  perhaps,  while 
they  are  in  the  bustle  of  their  life,  —  when  they  can 
be  interested  in  life's  business,  and  enjoy  life's  com 
forts  and  pleasures ;  but  oh  !  what  is  business,  what  is 
pleasure,  to  a  poor  human  being  that  has  only  an  hour 
to  live ;  how  intensely  such  a  one  must  feel  that  if 
he  has  not  religion  to  support  him,  he  has  nothing  to 
support  him  at  all !  I  cannot,  by  any  words  I  can 
think  of,  express  to  you  what  I  have  sometimes  felt, 
of  the  utter  destitution  of  the  soul  that  is  dying 
without  Christ.  It  has  got  absolutely  nothing  to  rest 
upon ;  it  can  do  absolutely  nothing  !  If  it  be  not  too 
much  stupefied  and  overwhelmed  to  feel  anything 
distinctly,  its  feeling  must  be  one  of  sheer  blank  un 
relieved  despair !  Oh !  I  can  imagine  the  monarch, 
dying  without  Christ,  feeling  that  he  would  too  thank 


112  NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

fully  give  his  empire  for  another  week  of  bare  life.  I 
can  imagine  the  man  of  vast  wealth,  dying  without 
Christ,  feeling  that  gladly,  gladly  would  he  purchase  a 
month  or  a  week  of  time  to  make  his  peace  with  God, 
though  he  should  leave  himself  a  beggar  !  The  hour 
of  death  is  the  time,  of  all  our  time  on  earth,  in  which 
we  feel  it  most  deeply,  that  "  without  Christ  we  can 
do  nothing."  Without  Him  "  we  dare  not  die  !  "  I 
do  not  think  it  right  to  appall  you  by  even  recalling  to 
your  minds  the  fearful  mental  agonies  in  which  men 
have  died  without  Christ ;  and  I  would  be  far  from 
saying  that  even  the  best  and  most  devoted  believer 
is  sure  to  find  the  last  parting  painless,  —  sure  to  go 
over  the  dark  Jordan  dry-shod.  I  know  that  many 
things,  spiritual  and  physical,  may  tend  to  throw  deep 
gloom  over  the  Christian's  dying  hour ;  but  then  this 
gloom,  if  it  be  at  all,  comes  just  because  the  trem 
bling  soul  fears  it  is  "  without  ChrisV"  or  because 
Christ's  presence  is  temporarily  withdrawn;  and  we 
all  know  in  what  peace  and  humble  hope  —  yea,  in 
what  assurance  of  salvation  and  what  triumph  — 
those  have  passed  away  from  this  world  who  felt  that 
their  Saviour  was  near  them  in  their  dying  hour.  It 
would  be  easy  and  pleasant  to  multiply  the  histories 
of  those  who  have  testified  that  "  the  sting  of  death" 
was  gone,  that  "the  bitterness  of  death  was  past," 
that  their  Saviour  "  had  abolished  death  ! "  I  might 
remind  you  of  one  who,  when  asked,  even  in  the  act 
of  death,  how  the  dark  valley  seemed  to  her  as  she 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST.  113 

was  passing  through  it,  answered,  "  Christ  is  here,  and 
it  is  not  dark."  God  grant,  my  friends,  that,  when  we 
shall  come  to  that  most  solemn  hour  of  all  our  life, 
our  Redeemer's  gracious  presence  may  be  with  us 
then!  We  can  have  no  one  else  for  a  companion 
through  that  solemn  way.  Oh,  may  we  have  him ! 
Only  the  Saviour's  presence,  that  "  Sun  of  the  soul," 
can  make  sure  that  "  at  the  evening  time  there  shall 
be  light."  And  so,  like  one  long  ago,  "  though  we 
walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  we 
shall  fear  no  evil ;  if  Thou  art  with  us,  if  Thy  rod 
arid  staff  shall  comfort  us  ! " 

Thus,  then,  my  hearers,  we  have  regarded  in  sev 
eral  lights  the  words  of  Him  who  said  without  arro 
gance  or  presumption  what  never  man  could  say,  — 
"  Without  Me  ye  can  do  nothing."  He  said  it  truly. 
Without  Him  we  can  do  nothing  towards  life's  first 
grand  work,  the  working  out  of  our  salvation  ;  without 
Him  we  can  do  no  good  ;  without  Him  we  can  derive 
no  comfort  or  advantage  from  the  ordinances  of  relig 
ion  ;  without  Him  day  by  day  we  cannot  live ;  with 
out  Him  we  cannot  die.  We  have  all  got  friends 
without  whom  we  cannot  do  well ;  there  is  just  one 
best  Friend  without  whom  we  cannot  do  at  all.  We 
avow  it ;  we  do  not  hesitate  to  express  our  absolute 
dependence  on  Him ;  we  say  to  Him  now,  as  one  of 
old,  "  If  Thy  presence  go  not  with  us,  carry  us  not 
up  hence ! "  No  experience  of  life,  no  months  of 
8 


114  NOTHING  WITHOUT   CHRIST. 

absence,  no  other  help,  no  other  things  to  think  of 
will  ever  enable  us  to  do  without  Thee  !  It  is  an  old 
thing  to  say  that  this  is  a  world  of  partings,  and 
that  we  are  sometimes  called  to  do  our  best  without 
things  and  persons,  without  whom  we  find  it  very  hard 
to  do.  We  have  all  of  us  learned,  perhaps,  what  it  is 
to  turn  our  back  upon  the  church  where  we  loved  to 
worship,  —  upon  the  home  where  we  once  were  young, 
—  upon  the  parents  whose  kind  direction  we  miss 
at  every  hour,  —  and  yet,  though  the  sunshine  may 
hardly  look  so  bright  to  us  since,  we  know  that  such 
things  can  be  borne.  I  can  imagine  —  we  have  all 
had  opportunities  in  our  lives  that  may  help  us  in 
imagining  —  how  the  youth  who  has  had  to  go  out 
from  his  quiet  home,  like  a  bird  from  the  nest,  to  push 
his  way  in  the  great  world,  —  away,  perhaps,  across 
the  Atlantic,  with  thousands  of  miles  between  him 
and  all  he  loves  ;  —  I  can  imagine  well  how  he  felt 
that  parting  from  home  like  a  tearing  away  from  life  ; 
and  how  in  the  first  days  of  absence,  as  he  remembers 
his  mother's  sad  face  and  faltering  voice  as  she  bade 
her  son  farewell,  he  may  feel  fit  for  nothing.  He  may 
fancy  that  away  from  those  dear  ones  who  are  think 
ing  of  him  at  home  he  never  can  go  on  in  the  dreary 
routine  of  life,  —  that  "  without  them  he  can  do  noth 
ing  ! "  But  after  a  while,  in  the  bustle  of  his  new 
life,  these  morbid  feelings  depa*rt ;  he  toils  away 
industriously,  even  cheerfully ;  and  though  he  often 
remembers  the  fireside  he  left,  he  feels  that  it  is 


NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST.  115 

possible,  after  all,  to  live  away  from  it.  It  gives  him 
a  motive  to  work ;  and  he  labors  the  harder  that  he 
may  the  sooner  go  back  to  gladden  the  dear  hearts 
there,  and  to  make  some  little  return  to  a  father 
and  a  mother  for  all  they  did  for  him.  And  even 
when  there  is  no  prospect  of  meeting  again  in  this 
world,  we  can  bear  to  part  from  those  linked  by  the 
closest  ties.  It  is  bitter,  bitter ;  but  still  it  has 
been  done  ;  it  is  done  every  day.  What  home  of 
all  our  homes  has  not  parted  with  its  best  and  best- 
loved  one ;  what  family  has  not  lost  its  purest  and 
sweetest  member  ;  what  fireside  is  there,  "  howsoe'er 
defended,  but  has  one  vacant  chair  !  "  And  yet  the 
brothers,  the  sisters,  the  parents,  go  about  their  du 
ties  as  usual,  and  to  the  careless  world  look  much 
as  before.  Ah,  that  world  does  not  know  that  now 
in  that  home  there  are  doors  that  are  never  unlocked, 
books  that  are  never  looked  into,  thresholds  that  are 
crossed  no  more!  Still,  we  can,  sooner  or  later  in 
some  way  or  other,  do  without  every  one  from  whom 
we  can  ever  be  called  to  part.  Thanks  be  to  God 
that  we  need  never  —  never  at  any  moment,  never 
anywhere  —  part  from  that  One  best  and  kindest 
Friend  "  without  whom  we  can  do  nothing ! "  "  With 
out  Me,"  He  says,  "ye  can  do  nothing:"  sad,  sad 
words  if  without  Him  we  ever  needed  to  be ;  but 
He  can  be  "  with  us  "  in  spite  of  all  external  parting. 
"  Lo,"  He  says,  "  I  am  with  you  alway,  even  to  the 
end  of  the  world  ! "  Blessed  Saviour,  fulfil  that  gra- 


116  NOTHING  WITHOUT  CHRIST. 

cious  promise  to  our  hearts.  Go  with  us  where  we  go, 
and  dwell  with  us  where  we  dwell !  We  never  know 
what  we  can  bear  till  we  are  tried ;  we  do  not  know 
what  endurance  there  is  in  these  hearts  ;  yet  we  know 
that  we  can  bear  all  partings  else,  but  not  that  last 
hopeless  destitution  which  lies  in  being  abandoned  by 
Thee  ! 


VII. 


THE   PROSPECT   PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

"  And  my  sin  is  ever  before  me."  —  PSALM  li.  3. 

,  S  that  our  way,  my  friends  ?  Is  that  the 
prospect  that  is  ever  before  our  eyes  and 
minds  ?  Do  we  train  ourselves  to  think 
habitually  of  our  faults,  our  unworthi- 
ness,  the  foolish  things  we  have  often  said,  the  hasty, 
silly,  ill-set,  conceited,  false,  unjust,  sinful  things  we 
have  often  done  ?  Or  would  it  not  be  nearer  the  truth, 
in  the  case  of  many  a  man,  if  he  were  to  say,  My 
merits  are  ever  before  me  ?  Many  a  man  is  constantly 
thinking  of  his  good  qualities,  and  his  praiseworthy 
doings,  thinking  how  clever,  and  wise,  and  skilful, 
and  judicious,  and  good  he  is,  and  what  great  things 
he  has  done.  And  instead  of  taking  the  text  for  his 
own,  and  saying,  "My  sin  is  ever  before  me,"  he 
would  speak  the  truth  if  he  were  to  say,  "  My  emi 
nent  abilities  and  deservings  are  ever  before  me, 
and  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  I  do  not  bring  them 
conspicuously  before  my  fellow-men."  And  hence  it 
comes  that  men  are  sometimes  disappointed  and  dis 
contented  because  other  people  will  not  recognize  their 


118     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

merits  and  good  qualities  as  they  think  they  ought, 
and  because  they  are  not  advanced  to  places  of  greater 
distinction  and  advantage  than  they  are  ever  likely 
to  be.  There  are  persons  who  not  merely  have  their 
own  claims  and  excellences  and  services  continually 
before  them,  but  keep  making  comparisons  between 
their  own  and  the  doings  and  deservings.  of  their 
neighbors,  —  more  especially  of  those  in  their  own 
walk  of  life,  —  comparisons  very  much  in  their  own 
favor.  And  hence  come  discontent,  ingratitude  for  the 
many  blessings  they  have,  envying  and  grieving  at  a 
neighbor's  good  or  success,  and  undutiful  murmuring 
against  the  appointments  of  God's  providence.  Hence 
comes,  too,  a  self-sufficient  spirit,  far  removed  from  the 
humblemindedness  of  the  true  Christian ;  a  disposi 
tion  to  be  pleased  with  one's  self,  and  to  forget  what 
poor  helpless  sinners  we  all  are  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Yes,  my  friends,  all  this  evil,  and  more,  comes  of  our 
looking  in  only  one  of  the  two  great  directions  in 
which  man  may  look,  as  regards  his  own  doings  and 
deservings.  It  comes  of  our  forgetting  the  wise  coun 
sel  to  us  all,  which  is  conveyed  in  this  text,  in  which 
the  Psalmist  tells  us  of  something  which  he  was  wont 
to  do.  Ah,  he  looked  at  the  other  side  of  the  page  ! 
He  looked  to  see  how  the  account  stood  against  him, 
as  well  as  how  it  stood  for  him  !  He  looked  back 
over  his  past  life  ;  and  he  did  not  see  much  on  which 
he  could  look  with  entire  satisfaction.  He  looked 
away,  over  those  departed  years,  from  the  day  when 


THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET   SALUTARY.     119 

he  was  a  little  boy  in  his  father's  house  and  about 
the  sheep,  down  to  the  day  then  present  with  him  on 
which  he  was  an  anointed  king.  He  saw  many  bless 
ings,  many  deliverances,  many  labors,  many  cares; 
but  there  was  one  dark  figure  that  kept  always  in 
truding  itself,  look  where  he  might,  which  he  knew 
only  too  well.  There  was  one  reproachful  face,  one 
warning  and  threatening  hand,  —  always  there  !  I 
sometimes  think,  he  seems  to  say,  —  I  sometimes 
think  of  my  doings,  my  cares,  my  toils ;  but  there  is 
one  thing  I  never  can  forget :  u  My  sin  is  ever  before 
me!" 

Ah,  my  brethren,  if  it  were  with  us  more  as  it  was 
with  David,  if  we  bethought  ourselves  oftentimes  of 
our  sins,  our  failings,  our  mistakes,  our  ill-deservings, 
—  we  should  be  more  humble,  more  thankful,  more 
content,  more  earnestly  desirous  to  fly  to  that  Saviour 
in  whom  is  all  sufficiency,  and  help,  and  grace !  To 
look  back  on  our  past  history  would  effectually  take 
us  down  from  all  high  thoughts  of  ourselves,  would 
keep  us  lowly,  would  lead  us,  in  our  utter  helpless 
ness,  to  the  Redeemer's  feet ! 

Here,  then,  is  the  subject  for  our  consideration  to 
day.  I  trust,  before  we  have  done,  we  may  all  feel  its 
practical  importance.  I  have  no  doubt,  that  most  of 
us  have  our  habits  of  thinking :  have  tracks,  beaten 
paths  (as  it  were)  of  thought,  into  which  we  naturally 
fall  when  our  minds  are  not  directly  occupied  with 


120     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

something  that  puts  them  on  the  stretch.  And  I  have 
no  doubt,  too,  that  each  of  us  is  to  himself  a  subject  of 
such  thought  to  a  far  greater  degree  than  is  desirable. 
It  is  a  great  thing  to  go  out  of  ourselves,  to  get  clear 
of  the  grosser  atmosphere  of  our  own  little  cares  and 
vexations  and  fears  ;  the  mind  grows  very  petty  and 
small  when  it  never  ranges  beyond  the  mere  daily  life 
and  its  worries ;  and  doubtless  one  great  end  served 
by  worthy  books  is,  that  they  lift  us  up  above  our 
own  selves  to  larger  and  wider  things,  and  expand  the 
range  of  our  sympathies.  You  will  think  of  the  true 
words  of  a  great  poet : 

"  The  man  whose  eye 
Is  ever  on  himself,  doth  look  on  one, 
The  least  of  Nature's  works;  —  one  that  might  move 
The  wise  man  to  that  scorn  which  wisdom  holds 
Unlawful  ever." 

And  if  we  must,  by  the  make  of  our  being,  each  feel 
that  his  own  history  is  to  him  the  most  important  of 
all  histories,  and  his  own  concerns  more  important 
than  all  the  other  interests  of  the  world  together,  still, 
any  evil  effect  upon  our  moral  and  spiritual  being,  of 
allowing  our  minds  in  vacant  seasons  to  fall  too  ha 
bitually  upon  the  one  topic,  will  be  corrected,  will  be 
turned  to  blessing,  if  we  take  the  advice  implied  in 
the  words  of  the  text.  Let  us,  as  we  think  of  our 
selves,  and  of  how  it  has  fared  with  us  on  our  earthly 
pilgrimage,  not  dwell  so  much  on  toils  that  ended  in 
nothing,  on  hopes  that  were  disappointed,  on  merits 


THE  PROSPECT   PAINFUL   YET   SALUTARY.     121 

little  recognized  and  poorly  rewarded,  —  as  we  are  so 
prone  to  do.  Let  us  look  in  another  direction  quite  : 
one  in  which  it  is  not  so  pleasant  to  look ;  one  in  which 
many  men  quite  forget  to  look  at  all.  Let  us  think 
how  little  we  have  deserved.  Let  us  think  how  justly 
God  might  visit  us  in  wrath.  Oh,  it  will  profit  us  and 
in  end  us  in  many  ways,  to  have  our  sin  ever  before 
us! 

And  before  going  on  to  point  out  some  of  these 
ways  in  which  it  will  have  a  good  effect  on  our  spirit 
ual  state  to  train  ourselves  to  a  habitual  remembrance 
of  our  unworthiness  and  ill-deserving,  let  me  show 
you  that  I  am  not  building  upon  the  text  more  than  it 
will  bear  ;  that  I  am  not  snapping  a  decision  in  favor 
of  the  view  I  am  to  set  out,  from  an  isolated  text  of 
scripture,  that  by  inference,  and  perhaps  by  accident, 
appears  to  support  it.  There  are  many  things  in  Holy 
Scripture  which  teach  us,  that,  however  natural  it  may 
be,  it  is  not  a  Christian  disposition  to  be  dwelling  on 
our  good  doings  and  deservings.  You  remember  the 
memorable  words  of  Christ,  —  such  words  as  never 
were  spoken  by  any  human  teacher  or  leader :  "  Ye, 
when  ye  shall  have  done  all  those  things  which  are 
commanded  you,  say,  We  are  unprofitable  servants,  we 
have  done  that  which  it  was  our  duty  to  do."  There 
is  the  reflection  for  us,  after  we  have  done  our  best, 
after  we  have  done  much  more  than  we  are  ever 
likely  to  do.  You  remember,  too,  the  spirit  in  which 
we  are  to  work  out  our  salvation.  It  is  anything 


122     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

rather  than  a  self-complacent  and  confident  spirit ;  it 
is  a  humble  and  anxious  one ;  a  spirit  deeply  con 
vinced  of  sin  and  ill-deserving  :  "  Work  out  your  own 
salvation  with  fear  and  trembling  !  "  A  habit  of  daily 
repentance  is  the  right  thing  for  us  :  we  should  every 
day  be  going  anew  to  be  washed  in  the  fountain  opened 
for  sin  and  uncleanness  :  in  every  prayer,  whatever 
else  we  ask  or  omit,  we  must  ask  for  pardon  through 
Christ,  and  for  'the  Blessed  Spirit  to  sanctify  ;  because 
we  have  our  "  sin  ever  before  us  "  when  we  come  to 
the  throne  of  grace.  And  it  is  not  in  the  self-satisfied 
man,  accustomed  to  think  how  good  and  deserving  lie 
is,  that  the  primary  grace  of  penitence  and  humility  is 
likely  to  be  found.  Some  may  say,  Is  there  not  a  con 
spicuous  example  of  a  good  man  who  had  his  claims 
and  merits  a  good  deal  in  mind,  and  who  sometimes 
set  them  out  before  his  hearers  and  readers  ?  Did  not 
St.  Paul  sometimes  tell  of  his  labors  and  sufferings, 
and  of  the  things  he  had  "  whereof  he  might  trust  in 
the  flesh  ?  "  Yes,  he  sometimes  did ;  but  it  was  al 
ways  to  the  end  of  benefiting  others,  not  of  magnifying 
himself;  and  even  when  for  this  purpose  he  spoke  of 
his  doings  and  deservings,  we  find  him  ever  and  anon 
checking  himself.  —  apologizing  for  dwelling  on  these 
things  at  all ;  saying  that  he  was  "a  fool  in  glorying  "  ; 
and  declaring  that,  as  the  chief  of  sinners,  he  looked 
for  salvation  simply  through  Christ.  "  Of  myself,"  he 
says,  "  I  will  not  glory  but  in  mine  infirmities."  And 
you  know,  my  friends,  that  it  is  just  the  best  and  most 


THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY.     123 

Christian  people  who  sincerely  speak  of  themselves  as 
the  most  unworthy,  and  as  feeling  most  deeply  that 
only  through  the  Saviour's  atonement  can  they  bear 
God's  eye  upon  them.  It  is  "  clothed  with  humility," 
that  we  must  present  ourselves  before  God.  "  Not  in 
mine  innocence  I  trust ;  "  but  "  this  is  a  faithful  saying, 
and  worthy  of  all  acceptation  ;  that  Jesus  Christ  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners  !  " 

And  now,  my  friends,  let  us  think  what  good  we 
may  get,  through  doing  as  David  did  ;  and  having 
our  sins  ever  before  us.  There  is  no  doubt,  the  view 
is  not  a  pleasant  one.  There  is  hardly  anything  that 
men  like  less  than  to  be  reminded  by  another  of  their 
sins,  —  unless  indeed  it  be  in  very  general  terms, 
which  do  not  really  touch  the  conscience.  Yet  things 
which  are  painful  are  sometimes  profitable  ;  and  as 
suredly  it  is  so  here. 

First,  it  will  make  us  humble  to  think  habitually 
of  the  many  foolish  and  wrong  things  we  have  done. 
There  is  a  multitude  of  things  which  every  human 
being  has  said  and  done,  on  which  he  cannot  look 
back  but  with  shame  and  confusion  and  humiliation. 
There  is  a  multitude  of  things  which  every  human 
being,  who  is  possessed  of  average  sense  and  con 
science,  would  give  a  great  deal  to  efface  from  the 
remembrance  of  others,  and  from  his  own.  It  is 
painful  for  any  one  to  plainly  see,  that  on  a  certain 
occasion  he  acted  like  a  fool ;  but  it  is  far  more  pain 
ful  and  more  humbling  to  have  our  eyes  opened  by 


124     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

God's  Spirit  to  the  crushing  knowledge  of  our  sins 
to  be  made  to  feel,  not  merely  in  a  general  way,  that 
we  are  sinners,  —  everybody  will  confess  that  readily 
enough  ;  but  to  be  made  to  feel  that  this  and  that  and 
the  other  thing  actually  done,  is  sin  against  God,  — 
to  be  made  to  feel  that  this  and  the  other  year  or 
years  of  life  cannot  in  any  way  be  justified,  —  must  be 
given  over,  as  beyond  mending  or  extenuating,  wrong. 
Yet,  painful  as  it  may  be  to  think  of  these  things, 
ready  and  willing  as  we  might  all  be,  instead  of  hav 
ing  them  "  ever  before  us,"  to  banish  them  from  our 
remembrance  forever,  it  is  right  and  fit  that  we 
should  oftentimes  think  of  them  ;  for  there  is  no  doubt 
whatsoever  that  it  is  good  for  us  to  be  humble  ;  and 
there  is  nothing  in  this  world  that  will  humble  us  like 
that.  If  we  would  cultivate  that  grace,  essential  to 
the  Christian  character,  of  lowliness  in  the  sight  of 
God,  here  is  the  way  to  cultivate  it.  And  if  we 
\vould  avoid  that  proud  and  self-righteous  spirit,  hate 
ful  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  so  unbecoming  our  nature 
and  our  place,  and  such  a  grievous  hindrance  in  the 
Christian  race  from  its  first  step  to  its  latest  here,  — 
then  let  us  beware  of  dwelling  upon  what  we  fancy 
our  merits  ;  let  us  beware,  when  we  sit  dow7n  by  the 
evening  fireside  in  an  hour  of  leisure,  or  when  we  go 
forth  for  a  lonely  walk,  of  getting  into  the  way  of  run 
ning  over  the  story  of  our  life,  and  thinking  of  all  our 
hard  work,  all  our  wise  and  good  doings  ;  and  com 
paring  ourselves  with  this  one  and  that,  who  has  got 


THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY.     125 

on  better  than  we  have  in  the  battle  of  life,  without 
(as  we  think)  having  deserved  it  half  so  well.  There 
once  was  a  man,  who  got  thoroughly  confirmed  in  the 
habit  of  dwelling  on  his  own  good  deeds  and  merits, 
and  of  comparing  himself,  much  to  his  own  advantage, 
with  other  men.  And  so  inveterate  grew  that  habit, 
that,  coming  to  God  in  prayer,  when  every  mortal 
should  lie  as  in  the  very  dust  of  true  humility,  he 
could  not  help  summing  up  his  merits  even  there. 
And  so,  upon  a  certain  day,  going  up  to  God's  house 
to  pray,  he  offered  a  prayer  which  is  recorded  for  our 
warning.  Here  it  is  :  "  God,  I  thank  thee  that  I  am 
not  as  other  men  are  ;  extortioners,  unjust,  adulterers, 
or  even  as  this  publican.  I  fast  twice  in  the  week ; 
I  give  tithes  of  all  that  I  possess."  That  was  his 
prayer,  if  indeed  you  can  call  it  a  prayer ;  and  we 
have  no  reason  to  think  it  contained  a  word  that  was 
not  quite  true.  Very  likely  he  did  fast,  and  give 
tithes,  as  he  said ;  very  likely  he  was  not  an  extor 
tioner,  nor  unjust,  nor  impure ;  it  is  not  because  his 
prayer  was  false,  that  it  was  such  a  bad  prayer ;  it  is 
because  it  set  out  his  merits,  and  said  not  a  word 
about  his  sins.  His  sins,  it  is  plain,  were  far  from 
being  ever  before  him.  But  he  was  thoroughly  up  in 
the  catalogue  of  his  good  deeds  ;  they  were  before  him 
often  enough.  There  was  another  man  there  upon 
the  same  occasion :  I  dare  say  a  man  who  had  done 
many  wrong  things,  and  who  could  have  made  up  but 
a  very  poor  list  of  his  virtues  ;  yet  that  man,  from  the 


126     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

depths  of  a  contrite  heart,  offered  a  true  and  good 
prayer ;  one  which  suits  us  all ;  one  that  the  great 
God  above  us  approved  and  liked,  though  it  was  very 
short  and  very  simple.  But  that  poor  man  had  his 
sins  before  him,  and  was  thinking  of  them.  If  he 
ever  had  done  anything  good  in  his  unworthy  life,  it 
was  not  then  that  he  thought  of  it !  He  did  not  say 
a  word  about  his  merits,  if  he  had  any ;  and  yet  the 
blessed  Redeemer  tells  us  he  "went  down  to  his 
house  justified  rather  than  the  other ! "  For  he,  with 
his  sins  before  him,  "  standing  afar  off,  would  not  lift 
up  so  much  as  his  eyes  unto  heaven  ;  but  smote  upon 
his  breast,  saying,  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner ! " 
My  friends,  there  we  have  fairly  put  before  us,  by 
our  Saviour  Himself,  an  example  of  the  practical  effect 
upon  a  human  being,  of  having  his  sin  before  him, 
and  of  having  his  merits  before  him.  You  see  what 
it  lands  a  man  in,  to  think  much,  and  to  think  only, 
of  his  deservings  ;  you  see  what  it  leads  to,  to  think 
of  our  sins.  And  if  the  publican's  attitude  before 
God  was  the  right  one,  and  the  pharisee's  the  wrong 
one ;  if  the  publican's  prayer  was  the  right  prayer 
for  every  man,  and  the  pharisee's  the  wrong  prayer 
for  any  man;  oh  brethren,  as  you  would  cultivate 
that  humble  spirit  without  which  the  Christian  char 
acter  lacks  its  very  foundation,  be  cautious  how  you 
indulge  yourselves  in  the  perilous  contemplation  of 
what  you  may  think  your  good  deeds ;  and  see  to  it 
that  your  "  sin  be  ever  before  you !  " 


THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY.  127 

There  are  other  good  tilings  which  come  of  having 
our  sin  ever  before  us ;  which,  after  all,  simply  means 
taking  a  just  view  of  our  doings  and  character ;  for 
sin  and  imperfection  cleave  to  all  we  do  ;  and  our 
great  characteristic,  as  human  beings,  is,  that  we  are 
sinners.  All  these  advantageous  results  of  habitual 
meditation  upon  our  unworthiness  are  perhaps  implied 
in  that  primary  grace  of  humility ;  yet  they  grow  out 
of  it,  and  may  be  distinguished  from  it. 

So  let  us  go  on  to  think  that  the  habitual  con 
templation  of  our  sinfulness  will  tend  to  make  us 
thankful  to  God,  to  make  us  contented  with  our  lot, 
to  put  down  anything  like  envy  in  our  hearts  at  the 
greater  success  and  eminence  of  others.  A  man  who 
is  always  thinking  of  his  own  merits  and  services 
sees  them  as  much  bigger  than  other  people  do.  We 
all  know  that  it  is  a  natural  consequence  of  consider 
ing  any  subject  very  much  or  very  long,  that  it  grows 
greatly  in  apparent  importance.  And  so  you  find 
people  naturally  magnify  their  own  vocation,  or  the 
special  matter  to  which  they  give  their  thoughts. 
And  we  must  all  have  observed  that  people  who  are 
much  given  to  dwelling  on  their  own  doings  and 
deservings,  their  position,  their  influence,  and  the  like, 
come  to  entertain,  quite  honestly,  a  thoroughly  pre 
posterous  opinion  of  their  own  importance  and  stand 
ing  and  merit.  We  are  very  likely  to  think  of  our 
own  merits  as  vastly  greater  than  they  are,  if  we 
think  much  about  them.  But  we  are  not  the  least 


128     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

likely  to  think  too  ill  of  ourselves,  though  we  think 
ever  so  habitually  about  our  own  follies  and  sins.  We 
are  very  little  likely  to  exceed  in  that  direction.  You 
remember  the  suggestive  question  of  the  Psalmist,  — 
"  Who  can  understand  his  errors  ?  "  Ah,  there  is  a 
depth  and  intensity  of  evil  about  them,  which  is  be 
yond  our  knowing,  —  far  beyond  our  exaggerating. 
And  besides  this,  self-love  always  comes  in  to  say  a 
good  word  for  our  own  misdeeds,  —  to  suggest  an 
excuse  for  them,  —  to  point  out  a  host  of  differences 
between  them  and  the  misdeeds  of  other  men.  And 
HOW  let  us  mark  the  evil,  in  another  direction,  which 
will  come  of  dwelling  on  our  merits  and  excluding 
the  countervailing  contemplation  of  our  sins.  It  will 
make  us  unthankful ;  we  shall  not  feel  the  due  grati 
tude  to  God,  for  the  many  blessings  we  have,  —  for 
being  put  in  a  lot  so  good  as  ours  is.  We  shall  be 
disposed  rather  to  murmur  that  our  lot  is  not  better. 
We  shall  grow  dicontented,  and  envious  of  those  who 
are  preferred  before  us.  For,  as  we  have  said,  our 
own  merits  seem  much  larger  to  us  than  they  do  to 
anybody  else  ;  and  we  do  not  fully  discern  the  merits 
of  other  men.  No  wise  man  will  attach  much  weight 
to  the  estimate  of  one  man,  which  is  given  by  a  com 
petitor  in  the  same  walk  of  life,  unless  indeed  the 
competitor  be  a  singularly  noble-minded  and  generous 
one.  And  such  there  are :  men  who  may  be  trusted 
to  give  a  fair  and  favorable  account  even  of  the  merit 
which  rivals  or  exceeds  their  own  ;  but  such  men  are 
not  common. 


THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY.  129 

Now,  my  friends,  have  we  not  all  known  people  who, 
though  highly  favored  by  Providence,  were  always 
murmuring  and  fretting  at  their  lot ;  who  evinced 
no  gratitude  to  God  for  the  undeserved  good  He  had 
given  them ;  who  were  ever  looking  with  envious  and 
malignant  eyes  at  people  more  successful  and  distin 
guished  than  themselves  ?  Have  we  not  all  known 
people  who  were  always  ready  to  repeat  malicious 
stories  about  eminent  men,  not  minding  whether  or 
not  those  stories  were  true,  and  to  whom  a  greater 
favor  could  hardly  be  done  than  to  tell  them  some 
thing  to  the  prejudice  of  such  ?  Surely  there  is  not 
in  this  world  a  more  unhappy  and  unbecoming  temper 
of  mind  than  that  of  the  man  who  is  ever  ready  to 
say,  "  Look  at  me ;  think  of  all  I  have  done,  of 
my  eminent  merits  and  services  ;  and  yet,  see  how 
little  I  have  got  by  them  all ;  while  there  is  such 
a  man,  and  such  another,  who  never  did  anything 
particular ;  and  see  how  things  have  prospered  with 
them  ! "  What  can  be  more  unhappy  and  more  un 
becoming  than  that  ?  And  yet,  is  it  not  common  ? 
Common  in  my  profession,  common  in  your  profes 
sions  and  vocations,  common  wherever  there  are  sin 
ful  human  hearts !  Pernaps  there  is  some  tendency 
to  that  in  every  one  of  us.  Even  a  good  and  Christian 
man  is  sometimes  tempted  to  think  that  his  merits 
are  not  quite  recognized  as  they  deserve,  —  that  he 
has  not  quite  had  justice  done  him  yet.  And  we  can 
easily  see  what  evil  and  unchristian  feelings  are  apt 


130     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

to  follow  :  unthankfulness  towards  God ;  discontent 
with  our  lot ;  envying  and  grieving  at  the  good  of 
others. 

And  now,  my  friends,  how  to  get  rid  of  all  these  ? 
Oh,  look  in  a  different  direction.  Look  to  the  other 
side  of  the  account.  You  have  thought  of  your  well- 
deserving  ;  now  think  of  your  ill-deserving !  Your 
merits  have  been  much  before  your  eye ;  now  let 
your  sins  be  so !  Ah,  think,  has  not  God  given  you 
far  more  than  you  deserve  ?  You  know  the  evil  of 
your  own  heart ;  you  know  the  flaws  and  defects  in 
your  best  doings,  which  others  do  not  see  !  If  you 
have  been  enlightened  at  all  by  God's  Spirit  to  a  per 
ception  of  your  true  condition,  then  each  of  you  know 
how  evil  you  are,  better  than  any  one  except  God ! 
Look  at  that  weak  sinful  foolish  heart,  with  its  vain 
fancies  and  idle  thoughts ;  think  how  often  you  have 
got  credit  from  others  for  being  far,  far  better  than 
you  knew  yourself  to  be ;  think  of  words  and  deeds 
without  number  that  would  crush  you  down  with 
confusion  if  they  were  now  set  out  plainly  before  this 
congregation  here;  think  of  the  foolish,  ill-set,  vain, 
wicked,  indefensible  things  that  you  have  said  and 
done ;  and  say,  Have  you  not  received  at  God's  hand 
as  much  good  as  you  deserve  ?  Ought  not  each  one  of 
us  to  be  thankful  that  we  are  in  the  place  of  hope ! 
Where  should  we  be,  and  what  should  we  be,  if  God 
dealt  with  us  according  to  our  merits?  If  people 
knew  you  as  you  know  yourself,  would  they  think 


THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY.  131 

as  well  of  you  as  they  do  ?  Oh  brethren,  if  it  were 
with  you  as  it  was  with  the  Psalmist,  if  your  sin 
were  ever  before  you,  surely  you  would  fling  away 
envy  and  malice,  you  would  learn  to  be  thankful  and 
content. 

And  now  let  us  think,  in  the  third  place,  of  some 
thing  even  better  and  more  valuable,  as  resulting 
from  having  our  sin  ever  before  us,  than  these  things 
of  which  we  have  been  thinking,  —  although  these 
things  do  bear,  most  weightily  and  directly,  on  our 
Christian  character  and  our  eternal  state.  To  feel  our 
sinfulness,  —  to  have  our  sins  set  before  us,  by  God's 
Spirit,  in  such  a  way  that  it  will  be  impossible  to 
help  seeing  them,  and  seeing  them  as  bad  as  they 
really  are,  —  is  the  thing  that  will  lead  us  to  Christ, 
lead  us  to  true  repentance  on  account  of  our  sins,  and 
to  a  simple  trust  in  Him  who  "  saves  His  people  from 
their  sins."  You  know  —  every  one  knows  —  that 
salvation  is  to  be  found  only  by  going  to  the  Re 
deemer,  and  resting  upon  Him.  But  the  man  who 
takes  the  one-sided  view  of  himself  and  his  doings,  — 
the  man  who  thinks  much  of  his  merits  and  little  of 
his  sins,  —  is  not  in  the  frame  to  go  to  Christ  and  say, 
"  Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring ;  simply  to  Thy  Cross  I 
cling ! "  No  one  will  really  feel,  whatever  he  may 
say,  that  his  own  "  righteousness  is  as  filthy  rags,"  who 
has  trained  himself  to  think  that  his  own  righteous 
ness  is  really  very  good,  and  his  own  deservings  very 


132     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

great.  Yet,  if  we  are  ever  saved  through  Christ, 
and  by  His  grace,  and  God's  love  in  Him,  we  must 
get  entirely  off  the  ground  of  our  own  merits.  We 
must  learn  to  come  as  helpless  sinful  creatures,  de 
serving  nothing  good  at  God's  hand;  our  very  best 
deeds  unworthy  and  imperfect;  offending  in  many 
things,  coming  short  in  all ;  to  take  salvation  as  the 
free  gift  of  God.  If  we  are  to  be  striving  daily  to 
find  the  supply  of  a  want,  the  way  is  to  have  that 
want  ever  before  us  and  ever  pressed  home  upon  us. 
If  we  are  to  be  striving  daily  to  be  pardoned  and 
sanctified,  it  must  be  because  we  daily  see,  in  our 
sins,  what  makes  pardon  and  sanctification  the  first 
and  most  urgent  of  all  our  needs.  Oh,  surely,  it  is  fit 
and  right  that  beings  like  us,  whose  main  character 
istic  is  that  they  are  sinners,  should  always  be  remem 
bering  what  they  are ;  that  beings  whose  great  want 
is  the  pardon  of  sin,  should  always  be  feeling  that  it  is 
so ;  that  beings  whose  better  life  cannot  be  maintained 
from  day  to  day  but  by  the  presence  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  should  live  mindful  of  that  truth :  And  how 
shall  these  things  be,  unless,  when  thinking  of  our 
selves,  we  take,  not  a  partial  and  one-sided,  but  a  full 
and  complete  view  of  the  case,  by  having,  and  keep 
ing,  "  our  sin  ever  before  us ! " 

There  are  pleasanter  views,  but  none  more  profit 
able.  It  is  good  for  us  to  think  of  our  sins.  There 
is  no  need  to  think  of  our  good  deeds ;  if  indeed  we 
have  many  to  think  of,  we  cannot  change  them  now. 


THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY.  133 

But  to  think  of  our  sins  may  make  a  great  difference 
upon  them.  For  though  the  deed  remains,  yet  the  sin 
may  be  blotted  out  by  true  repentance  and  justifying 
faith.  To  think  of  our  merits,  and  dwell  on  them,  is 
a  mere  piece  of  selfish  gratification ;  but  to  think  of 
our  sins,  and  dwell  upon  them  in  a  right  spirit,  may 
lead  to  the  most  precious  practical  results.  Very  nat 
urally,  after  the  words  which  form  our  text,  after 
"my  sin  is  ever  before  me,"  comes  the  Psalmist's 
prayer,  "  Hide  thy  face  from  my  sins,  and  blot  out 
all  mine  iniquities.  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O 
God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me."  May  the 
like  contemplation,  my  friends,  lead  each  of  us  to  the 
like  earnest  prayer! 

I  cannot  but  linger  upon  my  text.  I  thought  of 
it,  last  Sunday  evening ;  I  have  been  thinking  of  it 
very  much  since ;  and  thinking  how  blessed  a  change 
it  would  work  upon  this  world,  if  we  had  all  more 
of  the  spirit  to  which  the  text  would  lead.  What 
humble-minded,  kindly,  charitable,  thankful,  contented, 
Christian  people  would  all  men  be,  if,  to  good  pur 
pose,  they  kept  their  "  sin  ever  before "  them !  It 
would  be  all  kindliness  and  mutual  help ;  no  disposi 
tion  to  bear  hard  on  an  offending  brother  ;  we  should 
be  ready  to  forgive,  feeling  that  we  need  to  have  so 
much  forgiven ;  and  never  forgetting  that  we  owe  ten 
thousand  talents,  —  having  ever  before  us  that  great 
overwhelming  debt  we  owe  to  God,  and  that  never 


134     THE  PROSPECT  PAINFUL  YET  SALUTARY. 

will  be  paid  unless  Christ  pays-  it  for  us,  —  we  should 
not  bear  hard  upon  a  poor  fellow-sinner  who  owes  us 
a  hundred  pence.  And  never,  never,  should  we  de 
signedly  do  anything  to  vex  or  grieve  a  human  being ! 
All  loaded  with  the  same  weight  of  sin  and  sorrow,  — 
all  to  be  saved,  if  saved  at  all,  by  the  same  atoning 
blood,  —  all,  in  a  little  while,  to  pass  through  the 
same  lowly  gate  of  death,  and  to  sleep  in  the  dust 
together,  —  is  there  one  that  would  say  or  do  the 
thing  that  was  merely  to  give  pain  to  another !  And 
oh,  looking  back  over  these  lives  we  have  led  to  this 
day,  —  thinking  of  the  omissions,  the  imperfections, 
the  failures,  the  sins  of  heart  and  thought,  of  word 
and  deed,  —  Oh,  let  us,  my  fellow-sinners,  fly  for  ref 
uge  to  the  same  Blessed  One,  whose  glory  is  that 
He  "  receiveth  sinners  " ;  let  us  bend  together  at  the 
throne  of  grace,  saying,  "  Our  Father,  —  Forgive  us 
our  debts,  as  we  forgive  our  debtors ! " 


VIII. 


DEPARTED    TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME   REST. 

"  There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling;  and  there  the  weary  be 
at  rest."  — JOB  iii.  17. 


HE  day  was  when  it  was  thought  a  fit 
thing  that  the  Christian's  last  resting- 
place  should  be  surrounded  by  gloomy 
and  repulsive  associations,  and  when  it 
was  thought  right  that  around  the  grave  there  should 
be  gathered  the  sad  emblems  of  mortal  decay,  rather 
than  the  memorials  of  immortal  hope.  In  the  gloom 
of  cathedral  vaults,  where  the  sunbeam  would  never 
fall  nor  the  daisy  grow,  the  dust  was  given  to  the  dust 
from  which  it  came ;  and  the  dark  fancy  of  the  sculp 
tor  ran  riot  in  devising  ghastly  tokens  of  the  degrada 
tion  of  that  which  was  the  human  body,  now  under 
the  dominion  of  decay  and  death.  It  was  not  of 
peaceful  rest,  —  not  of  the  glorious  deliverance  from 
sin  and  sorrow,  —  not  of  the  Saviour's  blessed  face 
seen  without  a  veil  at  last,  —  that  the  burying-place 
of  the  Middle  Ages  would  remind  you,  but  rather  of 
mouldering  bones  and  dreamless  heads,  as  though 
that  had  been  most,  or  all. 


136  DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST. 

And  most  of  us  can  remember  how,  in  our  early 
days,  the  churchyard  of  the  parish  we  knew  was  like 
anything  rather  than  what  a  Christian  burying-place 
should  be  made  by  people  who  believe  that  the  be 
liever's  breathless  body  is  "  still  united  to  Christ," 
and  is  waiting  for  a  glorious  resurrection.  We  re 
member  the  locked-up,  deserted,  neglected  place,  all 
grown  over  with  great  weeds  and  nettles,  and  looking 
not  like  God's  Acre,  the  holiest  place  in  the  parish, 
but  rather  like  an  accursed  spot,  which  no  little  child 
would  willingly  go  near.  I  see  something  more  than 
improved  taste  and  judgment  in  those  quiet,  beautiful, 
carefully  tended  spots  with  which  we  have  grown  so 
familiar,  and  where  faces  and  forms,  often  missed 
from  our  firesides,  have  been  laid  to  their  long  repose. 
It  is  not  merely  better  judgment,  but  sounder  faith, 
that  is  here  ;  it  is  a  thoroughly  Christian  thing  to 
scatter  the  beauties  of  nature  around  the  Christian 
grave ;  it  is  fit  and  right  that  there  flowers  should 
spring  up  and  die,  with  their  silent  reminder  of  death 
and  of  resurrection ;  it  is  fit  and  right  that  the  sur 
vivor  should  often  visit  the  place  where  rests  the 
mortal  part  of  one  who,  though  far  away,  is  a  member 
of  the  family  yet  as  much  as  ever;  and  there,  per 
haps,  remember,  more  vividly  than  ever  elsewhere, 
His  blessed  words  who  said,  "  I  am  the  resurrection 
and  the  life ;  he  that  believeth  in  Me,  though  he 
were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live.  And  whosoever  liveth 
and  believeth  in  Me,  shall  never  die ! " 


DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST.    137 

I  see  something,  my  friends,  in  the  most  beautiful 
text  to  which  you  have  listened,  that  is  like  turning 
the  ghastly,  neglected,  nettle-grown  graveyard  which 
we  may  remember  in  childhood,  into  the  quiet,  sweet, 
thoughtful  sleeping-place  which  we  find  so  commonly 
now.  Surely,  very  like  that  pleasant  change  is  the 
change  which  passes  upon  our  conception  of  our  last 
resting-place,  when  we  think  of  it,  not  as  man  has 
often  described  and  often  made  it,  but  as  the  ancient 
patriarch  Job  sets  it  before  us  here.  I  have  many 
times  thought  of  preaching  from  these  memorable 
words ;  but  I  remembered  what  was  said  by  a  great 
divine  as  the  reason  why  he  had  never  preached  from 
another  very  familiar  verse  of  Holy  Scripture.  He 
said  that  really  he  could  only  repeat  his  text,  if  he 
were  to  seek  to  discourse  upon  it ;  that  he  could  add 
nothing  to  its  force  and  beauty.  Yet  let  us  try  to-day 
to  rest  in  the  contemplation  of  these  words  we  all 
know  so  well,  and  which,  in  many  a  time  of  weari 
ness  and  trouble,  have  come  so  welcome  to  the  Chris 
tian's  heart.  There  are  few  words,  indeed,  that  fall 
more  pleasantly  upon  the  ear.  How  gently,  how 
graciously,  amid  the  fever  and  the  toils  of  life,  our 
blessed  faith  seems  to  take  us  by  the  hand,  and  to 
point  us  to  a  place  where  all  these  are  done  with,  say 
ing,  "  There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling ;  and 
there  the  weary  are  at  rest ! " 

This  text  speaks  to  us  over  nearly  four  thousand 
years.  Isaac  was  but  a  youth  in  the  days  when  Job 


138  DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST. 

lived.  But  the  oldest  book  in  the  world,  this  book  of 
Job,  has  never  been  surpassed  for  beauty  and  sub 
limity  by  any  of  all  that  came  after  it ;  and  even  it 
never  rose  to  higher  strains  than  in  those  verses  of 
which  the  text  is  one.  Yet  we  are  to  remember  this  : 
that  Job  lived  in  days  when  the  light  of  truth  was 
dim;  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  had  not  yet  risen 
above  the  horizon;  and  Jesus  had  not  yet  brought 
life  and  immortality  to  light ;  and  thus  it  is  possible 
that  we  are  able  to  understand  Job's  words  more  fully 
and  better  than  he  understood  them  himself.  The 
text  may  be  read,  first,  as  of  the  grave ;  but  in  its 
best  meaning,  it  speaks  of  a  better  world,  to  which 
the  grave  is  the  portal.  Now,  many  of  you  know, 
that,  while  all  are  agreed  in  believing  that  a  future 
life  was  not  revealed  to  Job  a.s  plainly  as  it  is  revealed 
to  us,  some  have  maintained  that  Job  had  no  knowl 
edge  of  a  life  beyond  the  grave  at  all ;  and  so,  that  in 
the  text  he  speaks  not  merely  of  the  grave  first,  but 
of  the  grave  only.  It  is  not  needful  now  to  discuss 
the  question  as  to  Job's  knowledge,  which  has  been 
discussed  already  not  only  very  much,  but  very  bit 
terly.  It  is  plain  that  we  are  entitled  to  read  those 
verses  in  the  light  of  present  revelation ;  and  after 
looking  at  the  text  'in  the  sense  which  it  first  bears,  we 
shall  go  on  to  its  completion  in  a  farther  and  a  higher. 
Let  us  think,  then,  first,  of  these  words,  as  spoken 
of  the  grave ;  which,  as  you  know,  Job  elsewhere 
calls  "the  house  appointed  for  all  living." 


DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST.  139 

It  is  not  needful  that  we  should  seek  to  justify  the 
impatient  burst  in  which  Job  wished,  as  many  others 
have  wished  since,  that  he  had  never  been  born. 
You  will  think  of  a  great  man  in  former  days,  who 
regularly,  as  his  birthday  came  round,  thought  he 
could  not  better  observe  it  than  by  reading  by  him 
self  this  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Job.  Jonathan  Swift, 
a  Christian  divine  and  a  great  deal  more,  in  the  re 
view  of  a  wasted  and  disappointed  life,  took  up  the 
ancient  story  of  the  patient  patriarch  in  his  impatient 
day ;  and  many  a  one  beside,  in  the  bitter  conviction 
that  all  life  has  proved  a  failure,  has  done  the  like. 
You  remember  how  trouble  after  trouble  came  upon 
that  home  in  the  land  of  Uz  :  how  first  the  patri 
arch's  worldly  wealth  was  taken ;  then  all  his  children 
were  reft  away  together  ;  then  loathsome  bodily  an 
guish  laid  upon  himself:  how  his  three  friends  came 
to  comfort  him,  and  when  they  saw  him  did  not  know 
him,  so  changed  was  he  in  that  little  time.  Not  a 
word  had  they  of  consolation  ;  the  easy  commonplaces 
with  which  the  cheerful  and  well-to-do  commonly 
condole  with  the  suffering,  would  not  do  in  a  case  so 
extreme  as  that.  And  it  was  after  seven  gloomy  days 
of  silence,  that  Job  broke  forth  into  this  passionate, 
desolate  cry,  wishing  the  day  of  his  birth  had  never 
been.  He  had  not  our  gospel  light,  nor  our  strong 
consolation ;  the  Blessed  Spirit  of  all  comfort  was  not 
known  to  Job  as  He  is  known  to  us ;  yet  of  course 
Job's  impatience  is  a  thing  that  cannot  be  fully 


140  DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST. 

justified,  though  it  would  be  interesting  to  see  the 
human  being  that  feels  entitled  to  cast  a  stone  at  him. 
After  that  first  outbreak  of  wretched  feeling,  the  pa 
triarch  calms  a  little  down;  and  then  he  comes  to 
that  beautiful  description  of  the  rest  into  which  he 
would  have  gone  if  he  had  been  spared  the  toil  and 
the  trouble  here.  He  tells  us  how  he  would  have 
slumbered  with  the  great,  the  wise,  and  the  good ; 
how  he  would  have  lain  still  and  been  quiet,  where 
trouble  could  never  come,  in  the  peaceful  grave. 

And  there,  he  says,  for  one  pleasant  thing,  "  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling."  Yes ;  there  is  one 
place  into  which  the  suffering  can  escape,  where  their 
persecutors  have  no  power.  Cross  the  line  that  parts 
life  from  death,  and  the  strongest  human  hand  can 
not  reach  to  vex  or  harm  any  more.  There  have  been 
striking  examples  that  bring  this  home  to  us  strongly. 
We  have  all  heard  the  story  of  that  Highland  soldier, 
who  fell,  in  war,  into  the  hands  of  a  savage  Indian 
tribe.  The  Indians  were  preparing,  according  to  their 
barbarous  custom,  to  put  their  prisoner  to  death  by 
horrible  lingering  tortures.  You  remember  how  he 
evaded  these.  He  told  his  captors  that  he  possessed 
a  magic  charm  which  rendered  him  invulnerable ;  and, 
for  proof  of  this,  he  bade  one  of  the  strongest  warriors 
among  the  Indians  to  take  a  sword  and  try  to  cut  off 
his  head,  saying  that  the  savage,  striking  with  all  his 
force,  could  not  inflict  so  much  as  a  scratch  upon  him. 
Scarcely  were  the  words  said,  when  the  savage,  fetch- 


DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST.     141 

ing  a  tremendous  blow,  made  the  soldier's  head  fly 
for  many  yards  from  his  body.  And  then  the  bar 
barians  felt  that  they  were  foiled  and  befooled ;  the 
brave  Highlander  was  gone  where  they  could  not 
reach  to  torture  !  There  is  no  more  touching  instance 
of  this  escape,  suggesting  itself  so  naturally  to  the 
mind,  than  occurred  in  one  of  those  outbursts  in  the 
Indian  Mutiny,  when  it  seemed  as  if  all  hell  had 
broken  loose.  You  know  how  a  brave  Scotchman, 
with  his  young  wife,  was  in  a  tower  that  was  attacked 
by  a  great  force  of  those  incarnate  devils ;  you  know 
how,  in  the  la^t  extremity,  when  all  hope  was  gone, 
he  found  in  death,  for  him  and  his,  a  retreat  where 
the  wicked  could  trouble  no  more.  And  you  will 
think  of  the  bloodthirsty  Roman  emperor,  who,  hear 
ing  that  an  enemy  whom  he  designed  for  torture  was 
dead,  exclaimed  in  bitterness,  "  Ah,  has  that  man 
escaped  me ! "  And  indeed  he  had  escaped  him, 
thoroughly  and  completely.  There  is  nothing  more 
striking  about  the  state  of  those  who  have  gone  into 
the  unseen  world  than  the  completeness  of  their 
escape  from  all  worldly  enemies,  however  malignant 
and  however  powerful.  And  it  is  so  with  all  the 
troubles  of  this  mortal  life,  small  and  great.  All 
the  cares  of  life,  all  its  anxieties,  all  its  pains  and 
bereavements,  are  cast  off  utterly  when  you  pass  the 
line  into  the  state  of  the  departed.  '•  There  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling,"  —  cease,  absolutely  and 
completely,  and  for  evermore. 


142   DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST. 

But  there  is  something  beyond  the  mere  escape 
from  worldly  evil.  Now,  the  busy  heart  is  quiet  at 
last,  and  the  weary  head  lies  still.  "There,"  says 
Job,  "  the  weary  are  at  rest.'*  "  The  weary ;"  and  oh, 
what  a  multitude  is  numbered  of  them  !  Not  merely 
those  who  often  feel  the  daily  weariness  growing  on 
the  over-driven  body  and  mind ;  all  are  weary,  more 
or  less,  and  grow  more  so  as  they  go  on.  Oh  breth 
ren,  if  all  were  right  beyond,  how  many  wo.uld  be 
thankful  to  lay  the  jaded  body  down  to  rest,  and  to 
cease  from  the  weary  round !  Many  a  human  being 
has  said  sincerely,  in  the  time  of  weariness  and 
trouble,  "  I  wish  I  was  in  my  grave !  "  Often  has 
tily  said,  foolishly  said,  and  not  quite  sincerely  said, 
the  words  yet  testify  to  a  longing,  sometimes  felt,  to 
creep  to  that  dreamless  rest  of  forgetfulness,  and  (like 
Job)  to  "  lie  still !  "  And  though  humbly  submissive 
to  God's  good  will,  and  though  feeling  that  "  to  live 
is  Christ,"  and  though  aware  that  to  abide  here  is 
needful  for  others'  sake,  yet  the  best  of  the  race  have 
sometimes  known  what  it  is  to  look  forward  with  a 
sigh  to  that  perfect  calm,  wherein  we  think,  with  a 
kind  of  confused  feeling,  that  morning  after  morning 
the  rising  to  toil  and  care  will  cease,  where  will  be 
no  anxious  calculations  how  to  make  the  most  of  the 
little  store,  which  barely  yields  bread  to  eat  and  rai 
ment  to  put  on.  It  is  oftentimes  comforting,  and  we 
cannot  say  it  is  not  sometimes  fit  and  right,  to  think 
of  a  place  where  we  shall  find  peace  and  quiet, 
where  "  the  weary  are  at  rest." 


DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST.     143 

But  though  a  deep  sleep  fall  upon  the  body,  it  is 
only  for  a  while.  And  indeed,  after  all,  there  is  a 
certain  delusion  in  thinking  of  the  grave  as  a  place 
of  quiet  rest.  The  soul  lives  still,  and  is  awake  and 
conscious,  though  the  body  sleeps  ;  and  it  is  our  souls 
that  are  ourselves.  We  cannot  throw  them  off,  nor 
escape  conscious  life.  Each  of  us  lives,  and  must  live, 
forever ;  and  we  have  no  warrant  for  believing  that 
in  the  other  world  there  will  be  any  season  of  uncon 
sciousness  to  the  soul.  But  now  our  subject  calls  us 
rather  to  think  that  even  that  in  us  which  does  sleep, 
—  even  the  body,  —  sleeps  to  wake  again.  Let  us 
ever  remember,  as  we  look  at  a  Christian  burying- 
place,  that  it  is  only  a  place  of  sleep.  It  is  striking 
to  think,  in  that  silent  and  solitary  place,  of  the  great 
stir  and  bustle  there  shall  be  in  it  some  day  !  There 
they  have  been  perhaps  for  centuries,  —  the  little 
grassy  undulations,  and  the  green  mossy  stones.  But 
"  the  hour  is  coming  "  which  shall  make  a  total  change. 
This  quiet,  this  decay,  this  forgetfulness,  are  not  to 
last !  It  has  been  doubted  whether  Job  knew  all  the 
reach  of  meaning  there  is  in  his  words,  when  he 
uttered  those  memorable  ones  whose  force  we  under 
stand  so  well.  "  For  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liv- 
eth  ;  and  that  he  shall  stand  at  the  latter  day  upon 
the  earth ;  and  though  after  my  skin  worms  destroy 
this  body,  yet  in  my  flesh  shall  I  see  God  !  " 


144   DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST. 

But  now,  my  friends,  let  us  go  on  to  something 
farther  and  better.  There  is  no  doubt,  that  when 
Job  uttered  these  words  of  the  text,  he  was  thinking 
first,  if  he  was  not  thinking  only,  of  the  quiet  grave. 
But  though  these  are  Old  Testament  words,  we  read 
them  by  New  Testament  light,  as  those  who  know 
that  Jesus  is  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life  to  all  His 
people.  We  take  the  words  in  their  higher  and  truer 
meaning.  We  know  where  it  is,  that,  in  the  best  and 
noblest  sense,  "  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and 
the  weary  are  at  rest." 

These  words  speak  of  a  better  world.  They  point 
us  onward  to  heaven.  And  let  us  mark  what  are  the 
two  great  things  they  tell  us  of  that  glorious  and 
happy  place.  The  two  great  things  of  which  they 
assure  us  and  remind  us,  are  Safety  and  Peace. 
There  are  many  things  about  that  blessed  life  and 
world,  which  our  Redeemer  purchased  for  us  by  His 
life  and  death,  which  we  do  not  know  nor  understand, 
and  \vhich,  as  we  are,  we  could  not  understand  nor 
know.  But  these  two  grand  characteristics  of  the 
life  and  immortality  brought  to  light  by  our  Saviour, 
we  can,  in  some  measure,  comprehend  even  now,  and 
here. 

First,  there  is  to  be  safety,  and  the  sense  of  safe 
ty.  "  There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling."  Not 
wicked  men  only,  but  everything  wicked :  evil  spir 
its,  evil  thoughts,  evil  influences,  our  own  sinful  hearts. 
All  danger,  all  temptation,  shall  trouble  us  no  more. 


DEPARTED   TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST.     145 

Everything  evil,  whether  within  us  or  around  us, 
shall  be  done  with.  And  who  that  can  think  at  all 
but  knows,  that  if  evil  were  gone,  trouble  would  go 
too  ?  Where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  there 
will  be  no  trouble  at  all.  Not  the  kind  angelic 
companions ;  not  the  happy  souls  met  again  never 
to  part ;  not  the  pure  soul  itself,  "  made  perfect  in 
holiness  v ;  none  of  these  will  trouble  or  vex.  There 
never  will  be  a  cloud  to  obscure  the  Saviour's  face  ; 
never  an  uneasy  doubt ;  never  a  perplexing  fear. 
There  never  will  be  an  unkind  word  ;  never  an  un 
friendly  look ;  never  an  uncharitable  interpretation 
of  what  was  meant  sincerely  and  well.  There  will 
be  no  trouble  of  any  kind  or  degree.  Now,  brethren, 
we  hear  it  said  commonly  enough,  that  the  thing  we 
can  understand  about  the  better  world,  is  rather  the 
evil  that  shall  be  absent  than  the  holiness  and  hap 
piness  which  shall  be  present.  And  in  one  sense, 
doubtless,  that  is  true.  The  bliss  of  the  redeemed 
can  never  be  rightly  understood  till  it  is  felt.  But  it 
is  very  nearly  as  hard  for  us  to  understand  a  state  in 
which  evil  and  trouble  shall  be  entirely  absent.  Our 
whole  life  here  is  so  much  made  up  of  trouble,  we 
have  so  much  of  evil,  so  much  of  care,  temptation, 
worry,  always  about  us,  that  our  imagination  fails  us 
when  we  seek  to  realize  what  life  would  be  with  these 
away.  And  then,  the  great  thing  about  evil  and 
trouble  is  not  so  much  the  pain  and  suffering  they 
cause  us,  as  the  terrible  power  they  have,  unless 
10 


146   DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST. 

specially  sanctified  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  do  us 
fearful  spiritual  harm.  It  is  not  merely  that  here 
the  wicked  may  trouble  us ;  not  merely  that  wicked 
angels,  wicked  men,  wicked  influences  from  the 
wicked  world  around  us,  wicked  feelings  and  im 
pulses  in  our  own  sinful  natures,  may  trouble  us 
in  the  sense  of  destroying  our  peace  and  causing  us 
distress ;  but  that  all  these  things  may  lead  us  quite 
away  from  God;  may  quench  in  us  those  influences 
of  the  Blessed  Spirit  that  should  bring  us  to  the 
Saviour  and  make  us  one  with  Him.  In  this  world, 
we  are  always  on  the  enemy's  ground ;  we  breathe  an 
unfriendly  atmosphere ;  there  are  a  thousand  influ 
ences  ever  bearing  upon  us  that  tend  to  make  us 
worldly  and  ungodly.  But  in  that  happy  home  for 
which  we  look,  all  these  are  over.  There ,  for  the 
first  time  in  all  the  believer's  life,  he  can  feel  per 
fectly  safe.  There  will  be  no  need  to  be  ever  "  tak 
ing  heed  lest  he  fall " ;  no  need  to  combine  watchful 
ness  against  the  insidious  approaches  of  temptation, 
with  the  glorious  praises  there  !  Across  the  boun 
dary  of  that  better  country  which  we  seek,  evil  can 
never  come  ;  for  "  there  the  wicked "  —  all  that  is 
wicked,  "  anything  that  defileth  "  —  "  shall  cease  from 
troubling,"  shall  cease  utterly,  and  cease  for  ever 
more  ! 

But  there  is  more.  There  is  many  a  poor,  vexed, 
troubled,  overdriven  being  in  this  world,  who  would 
be  too  thankful  only  to  be  saved  from  all  trouble,  to 


DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST.      147 

think  that  he  would  never  be  worried  any  more.  But 
besides  the  negative  assurance  that  trouble  will  be 
done  with  in  Heaven,  we  have  the  promise  of  a  posi 
tive  blessing.  "  There  the  weary  are  at  rest."  You 
need  hardly  be  reminded  by  what  common  consent 
the  happiness  and  peace  of  the  better  world  are 
summed  up  in  that  word.  You  know  by  what  com 
mon  consent  of  the  thoughtful,  even  among  such  as 
enjoyed  no  revelation,  rest  was  taken  to  be  man's 
greatest  blessing  and  good.  "  The  end  of  work,"  said 
one  of  the  wisest  of  heathens,  "  is  to  enjoy  rest." 
And  you  will  remember  how  the  wearied  Psalmist 
summed  all  he  wanted  in  that  word.  "  Oh,  that  I  had 
wings  like  a  dove  !  then  would  I  fly  away  and  be  at 
rest."  And  as  if  to  answer  and  meet  the  blind  grop- 
ings  of  humanity,  come  the  blessed  Saviour's  words 
of  invitation  and  promise :  "  Come  unto  Me,  all  ye 
that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden  ;  and  I  will  give  you 
rest."  You  know,  too,  how  the  apostle  says  in  a  word 
what  holiness  and  happiness  await  the  Christian  be 
yond  the  grave  :  "  There  remaineth  a  rest  for  the 
people  of  God."  And  you  know,  likewise,  what  the 
"  voice  from  heaven  "  said  in  the  hearing  of  St  John  : 
"  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from 
henceforth ;  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest 
from  their  labors." 

And  so  it  is,  my  friends,  that  in  the  heaven  into 
which  we  hope  through  our  blessed  Lord  some  day  to 
enter,  we  shall  find  nothing  better  than  rest.  But  oh, 


M8     DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST. 

what  a  large,  all-comprehending  blessing,  and  what  a 
rest  it  will  be !  There,  at  last,  the  thirsty  soul  that 
never  was  satisfied  in  this  world  will  be  fully  content ; 
and  there  will  be  no  more  of  the  careworn,  anxious, 
weary  faces  that  here  seem  to  look  at  you  earnestly 
and  with  a  vague  inquiry  for  something,  —  the  some 
thing  that  is  lacking  in  all  things  here.  And  we  know 
the  meaning  of  all  the  vague  and  endless  aspirations 
of  our  human  hearts.  It  is  that  "  this  is  not  our  rest " ; 
our  rest  is  beyond  the  grave.  It  is  idle  to  try  to  sum 
up  the  items  that  go  to  make  an  immortal  soul  %happy. 
Doubtless  there  will  be  rest  from  sin,  from  sorrow, 
from  toil,  from  anxiety,  from  temptation,  from  pain  ; 
but  all  that  fails  to  convey  the  whole  unspeakable 
truth  ;  it  will  be  the  beatific  presence  of  the  Saviour 
that  will  make  the  weary  soul  feel  it  never  knew  rest 
before  !  There  is  a  something  of  life's  fitful  fever 
about  all  the  bliss  of  this  life  ;  but  in  that  world  the 
bliss  will  be  restful :  calm,  satisfied,  self-possessed, 
sublime.  It  will  be  "  the  peace  of  God,  which  pass- 
eth  all  understanding."  Only  in  Him,  as  seen  in  our 
beloved  Saviour's  face,  is  the  rest  and  consummation 
of  an  immortal  soul.  You  remember  the  Psalm 
ist's  words,  so  devoutly  earnest,  so  calmly  sensible : 
"  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  Thee  ;  and  there  is 
none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  beside  Thee ! "  And 
you  remember  words,  meet  to  be  set  beside  them 
"  Thou  madest  us  for  Thyself;  and  our  souls  are  rest 
less  till  they  find  rest  in  Thee !  " 


DEPARTED   TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST.     149 

Oh,  think  who  gives  that  rest  which  can  make  us 
happy,  and  to  whom  He  gives  it.  The  only  rest 
that  ever  truly  and  permanently  quieted  the  human 
heart  is  that  which  the  Saviour  gives,  —  His  peace, 
not  as  the  world  giveth  !  And  He  gives  it  only  to 
His  own ;  that  is,  to  all  who  will  humbly  take  it. 
Is  there  one  sinful,  heavy-laden  creature  here  that 
will  refuse  the  peace  He  bought  for  us  with  His 
blood?  It  is  not  the  quiet  grave  into  which  the 
weary  and  anxious  have  often  wished  they  could 
creep  and  lie  still,  —  not  that  which  can  soothe  away 
our  fears.  Only  He  can  give  it,  whose  word  never 
fails  ;  and  whose  promise  to  the  weary  who  will  come 
to  Him,  is,  "  I  will  give  you  rest ! " 

And  as  we  draw  these  thoughts  to  a  close,  we  look 
again  upon  that  text.  There  it  is  as  we  remember  it 
since  we  can  remember  anything ;  the  same  to  us  as 
it  has  been  to  generations  of  human  beings  for  six- 
and-thirty  hundred  years ;  with  its  promise  of  de 
parted  trouble,  and  of  ever  welcome  rest.  But  when 
soever  we  recall  those  words,  to  ourselves  or  to  others, 
oh  let  us  read  them  by  gospel  light,  —  let  us  read 
them  in  the  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness ! 
Let  us  never  forget  which  is  the  satisfying  rest,  and 
where  it  is  that  the  text  holds  true.  Let  us  lay  the 
dead  in  places  so  quiet  and  sweet,  as  shall  beseem  the 
body's  long  repose;  where  country  streams  murmur 
by  with  their  gentle  requiem,  and  ancient  trees  shed 
their  leaves  upon  the  grave ;  or  by  the  pleasant  shore, 


150  DEPARTED  TROUBLE  AND  WELCOME  REST. 

as  the  poet  tells  us,  and  in  the  hearing  of  the  sea ;  but 
let  us  never  be  so  false  to  Him  who  is  the  Resurrec 
tion  and  the  Life,  as  to  fancy  that  it  is  there  the  text 
is  fulfilled.  Nay  ;  but  when  we  would  look  towards 
the  place  of  which  the  Patriarch's  words  are  truest, 
let  us  turn  our  eyes  not  to  the  green  earth  below,  but 
to  the  bright  heaven  above ;  let  us  think,  not  of  the 
senseless  slumber  in  the  dust  of  the  poor  dying  body, 
but  of  the  bliss  and  purity  and  safety  of  the  immortal 
soul ;  and  looking  towards  that  Golden  City,  —  to 
wards  that  "  Country "  sought  so  earnestly  by  the 
"  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the  earth,"  with  its  per 
fect  peace,  and  holiness,  and  happiness,  —  let  us  thank 
God  that  "There"  indeed,  — that  "There  the  wicked 
cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  at  rest !  " 


IX. 

CONTINUANCE   THE    TEST    OF    RELIGIOUS 
PROFESSION. 

"  And  that  your  fruit  should  remain." — JOHN  xv.  16. 


HERE  are  few  things  which,  as  we  grow 
older  and  get  more  experience,  impress 
us  more  deeply  than  the  transitoriness 
of  thoughts  and  feelings  in  the  human 
heart.  We  observe  this  in  those  around  us ;  and  we 
feel  this  in  ourselves.  Places  and  persons  that  we 
once  thought  we  never  could  forget,  as  years  go  on 
are  all  but  quite  forgotten ;  and  feelings  that  we  once 
thought  would  have  remained  in  our  hearts  so  long 
as  they  beat,  as  years  go  on,  come  to  stir  their  pulses 
no  more.  Some  of  us  may  remember  the  days  when 
we  fancied  we  never  could  be  happy  away  from  the 
home  of  our  youth,  and  the  pang  with  which  we  left 
it ;  but  now,  perhaps,  we  never  miss  it  though  it  has 
riot  been  seen  for  years.  Some  of  us  may  remember 
with  what  sorrow  we  left  the  scene  and  the  friends 
of  some  happy  period  of  our  life,  which  now,  away  in 
the  past,  looks  faint  and  far.  They  leave  their  trace 
indeed,  these  strong  feelings  of  the  heart ;  their  faded 
relics  may  sometimes  be  awakened  to  life  again ;  they 


152  CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST 

do  not  leave    us  exactly  what  we  were,  —  but  still 
they  leave  us. 

And  there  is  no  respect  in  which  this  is  more  sad 
ly  felt  than  in  the  case  of  pious  feelings  and  holy 
resolutions.  We  can  yet  remember,  perhaps,  the 
warm  and  happy  emotions  of  Communion  seasons 
long  ago ;  the  eagerness  of  our  first  choice  of  Christ 
as  our  souls'  portion  ;  the  warm  and  confident  resolu 
tions  which  we  thought  would  never  yield,  that  here 
after  we  should  give  ourselves  entirely  to  Him ;  and 
it  seemed  easy  then  to  renounce  the  world,  to  set  the 
affections  on  things  above  ;  and  life,  which  is  really  a 
long  thing,  with  great  power  to  wear  down  the  keen 
est  feelings  and  the  strongest  resolutions,  seemed  in 
that  early  flush  only  the  short  passage  and  portal  to 
Eternity.  We  say  nothing  now  as  to  whose  fault  it 
is,  or  whether  it  be  anybody's  fault,  that  it  is  so ;  but 
surely,  in  the  case  of  many,  the  cold  hearts  of  to-day 
contrast  sadly  with  those  hours  of  sacred  elevation  ; 
and  the  growing  worldliness  of  spirit,  which  we  feel 
it  so  hard  to  keep  down,  is  not  like  that  early  choice 
of  heaven  and  of  immortality.  We  often  think  sadly 
of  those  whose  goodness  was  like  the  morning  cloud 
and  the  early  dew,  which  soon  pass  away.  We  some 
times  fear  lest  we  have  been  deluding  ourselves  with 
the  belief  that  we  were  better  and  safer  than  we  ever 
have  been,  and  mourn  for  the  soul-refreshing  views, 
the  earnest  purpose,  the  warm  affections  of  the  days 
when  we  first  believed  in  Christ. 


OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION.  153 

Now  there  is  no  doubt  that  it  is  possible  to  carry 
such  reflections  too  far.  No  doubt,  by  the  make  of 
our  being,  as  we  grow  older,  we  grow  less  capable  of 
emotion  ;  and  our  choice  of  Christ  may  be  just  as 
strong,  and  our  religious  convictions  as  deep,  though 
they  less  frequently  than  once  thrill  the  heart,  and 
stir  the  depths  of  feeling.  Religion  in  the  soul,  after 
all,  is  a  matter  of  fixed  choice  and  resolution,  —  of 
principle  rather  than  of  feeling ;  and  it  would  be 
very  wrong  if  any  old  believer  thought,  that,  because 
he  now  no  longer  feels  so  deeply,  perhaps,  on  a  Com 
munion  Sunday,  he  is  therefore  falling  away  from  the 
attainments  of  former  years.  It  is  only  with  him 
that  the  lamp  of  all  feeling  is  burning  lower,  —  that 
the  heart  is  less  easily  stirred  ;  but  still  the  choice 
of  heaven  may  be  as  fixed,  and  the  faith  in  Jesus  as 
deep  as  ever.  Do  not  dishearten  and  vex  yourselves, 
my  believing  friends,  in  trying  to  awaken  emotion 
which  no  longer  comes.  The  still  subdued  light  of 
the  autumn  twilight  is  as  beautiful  in  its  season  as 
the  blaze  of  the  summer  day.  And  the  calm,  thought 
ful  mood  in  which  the  old  man  covers  his  face  as  he 
bends  over  the  white  cloth,  befits  as  well  the  calm 
Feast  of  Remembrance  as  do  the  young  believer's 
tears. 

And  yet  it  remains  a  great  and  true  principle  that, 
in  the  matter  of  Christian  faith  and  feeling,  that 
which  lasts  longest  is  best.  This  indeed  is  true  of 
most  things.  The  worth  of  anything  depends  much 


154  CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST 

upon  its  durability,  upon  the  wear  that  is  in  it.  A 
thing  that  is  merely  a  fine  flash  and  over,  only  disap 
points.  It  is  not  one  bright  hour  that  makes  a  fine 
day ;  it  is  the  equable  continuance  of  the  cheerful 
light  that  makes  it.  It  is  not  the  gaudy  annual  we 
value  most,  but  the  steadfast  forest-tree.  The  slight 
triumphal  arch,  run  up  in  a  day,  may  flout  the  sober- 
looking  buildings  near  it,  but  they  remain  after  it 
is  gone.  And  our  Blessed  Saviour,  in  the  text,  ac 
knowledges  the  truth  of  this  great  principle.  He 
tells  his  disciples  that  they,  as  branches  of  Himself, 
the  living  Vine,  were  to  bear  fruit,  —  to  bring  forth 
much  fruit :  "  Herein  is  my  Father  glorified,  that  ye 
bear  much  fruit ;  so  shall  ye  be  my  disciples."'  And 
what  is  meant  by  fruit,  and  much  fruit,  every  one 
feels  at  once  ;  for  the  analogy  between  the  fruit  of  a 
tree  and  the  life  and  conduct  of  a  man  is  too  plain 
to  need  any  tracing.  But  even  fruit,  and  much  fruit, 
was  not  enough  for  the  Saviour's  desire  and  God's 
glory.  The  fairest  profession  for  a  time,  the  most 
earnest  labors  for  a  time,  the  most  ardent  affection 
for  a  time,  would  not  suffice.  And  so  the  Redeemer's 
words  are,  mark  them  well,  —  "I  have  chosen  you, 
and  ordained  you,  that  ye  should  go  and  bring  forth 
fruit ;  and  that  your  fruit  should  remain" 

No  doubt,  brethren,  the  disciples  to  whom  Christ 
addressed  these  words  had  a  work  to  do  beyond  that 
which  can  be  allotted  to  any  of  us.  They  had  to 
found  the  Christian  Church ;  and  it  was  a  matter  of 


OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION.  155 

momentous  concern,  not  for  God's  glory  only,  but  for 
the  sake  of  a  sinful  world,  that  their  handiwork 
should  be  firm  and  durable,  —  that  it  should  remain 
even  until  the  end  of  time.  But  it  is  not  in  that 
special  sense  in  which  we  wish  at  present  to  under 
stand  the  text.  We  wish  to  understand  it  just  as 
suggesting  the  great  principle,  that,  in  religion,  Per 
manence  is  the  great  test,  That  only  is  true  fruit  of 
the  Spirit,  which  remains,  which  does  not  wear  out 
with  advancing  time.  The  text  hints  to  us,  that  it  is 
even  a  harder  thing  to  keep  up  a  consistent  Christian, 
profession  —  to  keep  it  up  year  after  year,  through 
temptations,  through  troubles,  through  the  slow  wear 
of  time  —  than  to  make  it,  however  fairly,  at  the  first, 
Our  Christian  profession  may  indeed  lose  something 
of  its  gloss,  may  get  somewhat  battered  and  travel- 
stained  as  we  go  on  our  pilgrimage-path,  but  still,  in 
the  main,  in  all  that  makes  its  essence,  it  must  go 
on  with  us.  We  are  to  see  to  it  that  we  bring  forth 
i'ruit,  "  and  that  our  fruit  should  remain. " 

And  our  first  remark  upon  this  precept  is  this  :  that 
It  is  only  by  our  fruit  remaining  that  we  are  warranted 
in  believing  that  it  is  the  right  fruit.  The  only  satis 
factory  proof,  either  to  ourselves  or  to  those  around  us, 
that  our  Christian  faith,  and  hope,  and  charity  are  the 
true  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  is  that  they  shall  last,  that 
they  shall  stand  the  wear  of  advancing  time.  In  re 
ligion,  it  is  not  merely  that  the  fruit  which  "  remains  " 
is  the  best  fruit ;  the  fruit  which  "  remains  "  is  the  only 


156  CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST 

fruit.  Anything  else  is  a  false  pretender.  Contin 
uance  is  the  test  of  Christian  grace  being  genuine. 
And  herein  is  a  point  of  difference  between  worldly 
and  spiritual  things.  We  have  said  that  most  things 
in  this  world  are  valuable  in  proportion  to  their  dura 
bility  ;  but  it  would  not  be  just  to  say  that  things 
which  wear  out,  and  even  wear  out  fast,  have  no  value 
at  all.  Who  shall  say  that  the  flower  which  blooms 
in  the  morning  and  withers  before  the  sunset,  is  not 
a  fair  and  kind  gift  of  the  Creator ;  who  shall  affirm 
that  the  summer  sunset  is  not  beautiful,  though  even 
while  we  gaze  upon  it  its  hues  are  fading?  Who 
shall  deny  that  there  is  something  precious  in  the 
lightsome  glee  of  childhood,  even  though  in  a  little 
while  that  cheerful  face  is  sure  to  be  shadowed  by  the 
cares  of  manhood?  Indeed,  it  has  been  maintained 
that  the  beauty  and  value  of  many  things  in  this 
world  are  increased  by  the  shortness  of  the  time  for 
which  they  last;  that  many  things  borrow  a  charm 
from  their  very  evanescence ;  and  that  no  one  feels 
so  keenly  the  beauty  of  the  fairest  landscape  as  the 
dying  man  who  knows  that  he  is  very  soon  to  look 
upon  it  no  more.  But  it  is  not  thus  with  Christian 
grace.  If  it  be  not  a  grace  which  will  last  forever,  it 
is  no  grace  at  all.  If  it  be  not  worth  everything,  it  is 
worth  nothing.  Ah,  brethren,  a  man  may  show  every 
appearance  of  being  a  true  disciple ;  his  convictions 
of  sin  may  be  deep,  his  sense  of  the  Saviour's  need 
fulness  strong,  his  zeal  in  all  Christian  exercises 


OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION.  157 

great ;  he  may  read  his  Bible  carefully,  he  may  pray 
often  and  much,  he  may  never  be  out  of  God's  house, 
he  may  be  deeply  impressed  at  a  Communion-table,  jie 
may  be  eager  to  do  good  to  all  as  he  has  opportunity ; 
and  all  these  things  are  well ;  but  oh !  if  they  last 
but  for  a  little,  if  the  zeal  wanes  and  expires,  if  the 
throne  of  grace  is  deserted,  and  the  Bible  no  longer 
read,  and  the  little  task  of  Christian  philanthropy 
abandoned  ;  how  much  reason  there  is  then  to  fear 
lest  the  man  was  deceiving  himself  with  a  name  to 
live  while  he  was  dead,  —  that  he  was  mistaking  the 
transient  warmth  of  mere  human  emotion  for  the 
gracious  working  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God !  God 
forbid  that  we  should  judge  any  man ;  and  we  know 
that  even  they  whose  names  are  written  in  the 
Lamb's  book  of  Life,  who  are  effectually  called  and 
sanctified,  and  so  who  can  never  totally  and  finally  fall 
from  grace  and  end  in  woe,  may  yet  fall  into  grievous 
sin,  and  continue  therein  for  a  time ;  but,  though  we 
should  ever  be  charitable  when  we  judge  our  neighbor, 
it  is  wisdom  to  be  severe  when  we  judge  ourselves ; 
and,  brethren,  how  can  we  but  fear  and  tremble  when 
we  feel  grace  within  decaying  and  weakening,  lest  our 
fruit  should  not  be  that  fruit  which  shall  remain,  — 
lest  our  profession  should  prove  a  delusion  which 
deceived  even  ourselves  !  It  may  be  otherwise ;  our 
nagging  zeal  and  our  chilling  heart  may  be  the  signs 
only  of  the  temporary  intermission  of  the  true  grace, 
and  not  of  the  final  failure  of  the  false;  but  who 


158  CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST 

shall  set  his  eternal  destiny  upon  that  fearful  chance, 
—  who  shall  not  rather  set  himself  to  earnest  prayer, 
and  stir  himself  up  to  vigorous  effort,  to  "  strengthen 
the  things  which  remain,  which  are  ready  to  die "  ? 
The  doctrine  of  what  is  called  the  Perseverance  of 
the  Saints,  when  rightly  regarded,  so  far  from  tending 
to  make  men  spiritually  indolent,  —  to  make  them 
cease  from  the  diligent  use  of  the  means  of  grace, 
and  rest  in  the  confidence  that  having  once  been 
right  they  never  can  go  wrong,  —  is  a  doctrine  which 
should  tend  in  the  very  reverse  direction,  which 
should  stir  men  up  to  ceaseless  prayer  and  endeavor, 
and  which  should  make  them  tremblingly  watchful  of 
the  faintest  symptom  of  spiritual  declension,  lest  that 
should  be  the  indication  that  their  profession  of  relig 
ion  is  a  delusion,  and  that  they  have  never  yet  gone 
to  Christ  at  all.  Who  should  be  so  fearful  of  the 
least  appearance  of  going  wrong  as  he  who  believes 
that  to  go  wrong  is  an  indication  which  makes  it  fear 
fully  likely  that  he  has  never  been  right?  And  it 
is  sad  to  think  how  this  great  doctrine,  which  ought 
to  stimulate  to  constant  exertion  to  keep  the  armor 
bright  and  the  profession  unsullied,  has  been  used  or 
abused  to  just  the  opposite  end.  We  read  in  history 
that  when  a  certain  man  who  had  filled  a  high  place 
in  this  world  was  dying,  he  was  filled  with  many  fears 
and  forebodings  as  to  how  he  stood  with  God.  He 
sent  for  his  spiritual  advisers,  and  anxiously  asked 
of  them  whether  it  were  possible  for  the  elect  to  fall 


OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION.  159 

finally ;  and  being  answered  in  the  negative,  replied, 
"  Then  I  am  safe ;  for  I  am  certain  that  I  was  once  in 
a  state  of  grace."  And  so,  instead  of  turning  even 
then  to  the  Saviour,  who  is  ready  to  receive  and  par 
don  even  to  the  eleventh  hour,  the  dying  man  drugged 
his  soul  with  that  delusive  opiate ;  which,  if  it  meant 
anything,  just  meant  this  pernicious  and  false  idea, 
that,  "  if  a  man  has  been  at  any  time  satisfied,  from 
his  own  feelings,  of  being  in  a  state  of  grace,  he  will 
infallibly  be  saved,  and  is  not  to  regard  any  sin  or 
course  of  sin  he  may  subsequently  fall  into  as  endan 
gering  his  final  acceptance."  Ah,  brethren,  by  far 
the  more  natural  and  likely  interpretation  of  the  fact 
that  a  professing  Christian  has  fallen  into  grievous 
sin,  or  has  even  chilled  down  into  utter  heartlessness 
and  heedlessness,  is,  that  his  profession  was  unsound. 
The  man  who  feels  that  he  is  now  far  wrong,  has 
weighty  reason  for  fearing  that  he  never  was  right  at 
all.  For  that  only  is  the  right  fruit  which  remains ; 
that  only  is  the  true  grace  which  stands  the  wear  of 
years.  And  when  we  remember  how  ready  we  are 
to  deceive  ourselves,  and  to  pass  sentence  unjustly 
in  our  own  favor,  oh,  with  what  caution  we  should 
receive  any  testimony  borne,  as  we  may  fancy,  by  our 
own  soul  to  our  own  soul's  state !  Yea,  how  decid 
edly  we  should  reject  that  self-borne  testimony,  if 
we  know  that  now  we  have  left  our  first  love,  and 
that  the  graces  of  the  Christian  life  are  growing 
weaker  within  us  !  For  how  stands  the  case  ?  We 


160  CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST 

have  just  our  own  heart  bearing  conflicting  testimo- 
nies :  our  heart  tells  us  firmly  that  we  are  wrong 
now ;  it  tells  us,  not  nearly  so  firmly,  that  we  were 
right  once ;  it  may  be  erring  on  the  favorable  side,  it 
cannot  be  erring  upon  the  other.  Oh,  let  us  judge  of 
our  own  case  as  at  the  worst,  since  we  are  yet  in  the 
place  of  hope ;  let  us  put  the  least  favorable  construc 
tion  on  our  spiritual  symptoms,  when  the  Physician 
of  souls  is  yet  offering  to  us  the  balm  of  Gilead, 
which  can  heal  and  save!  What  do  you  do  as 
regards  worldly  things  ?  Do  you  not  always  provide 
against  the  worst  that  can  happen  ?  If  you  must  go 
a  journey,  and  are  doubtful  whether  there  will  be  rain 
or  fair  weather,  is  it  not  wisest  to  go  prepared  for 
rain  ?  If  your  little  child  has  a  cough,  which  may  be 
only  the  symptom  of  passing  indisposition,  but  which 
may  be  the  premonition  of  that  sad  decline  which 
will  lay  him  in  his  grave,  is  it  not  wise  and  prudent 
to  apply  to  the  physician  in  time,  and  make  sure  of 
how  the  case  may  be,  while  yet  there  is  time  to  apply 
the  remedy?  Let  us  fix  it  then  in  our  minds  as 
a  most  solemn  truth,  that  the  "fruit  which  shall 
remain  "  is  that  which  Christ  especially  desired  and 
desires  to  see  in  His  disciples ;  that  so  the  fruit 
which  withers  and  moulders  is  not  that  which  He 
desires  to  see ;  that  it  is  a  most  alarming  symptom 
of  our  soul's  state  when  grace  within  us  seems  to  be 
declining  and  dying;  that  at  the  best  it  means  that 
we  are  losing  ground  which  it  may  take  long  time 


OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION.  161 

and  labor  to  make  up,  and  falling  into  sin  which  will 
cost  us  bitter  repentance ;  and  that  it  may  mean 
that  we  never  were  in  Christ  at  all,  —  that  the  fruit 
in  which  we  trusted  was  not  the  fruit  of  the  Spirit, 
—  that  we  never  have  borne  any  of  that  fruit  in 
which  God  is  glorified,  and  in  bearing  which  we  are 
shown  to  be  the  disciples  of  Christ.  Yes,  brethren, 
to  any  eye  but  His  who  can  read  what  names  are 
written,  and  discern  what  names  are  not  written,  in 
the  Book  of  Life,  the  great  test  whether  or  not 
seeming  Christian  grace  be  genuine,  is  just  whether 
it  is  permanent  or  not.  It  is  not  the  warmest  feel 
ings,  the  most  ecstatic  raptures,  the  most  abundant 
labors,  yea  martyrdom  itself,  for  a  brief  season  of 
excitement,  that  can  prove  that  the  work  of  grace  is 
begun  and  is  advancing  in  the  soul.  Never  tell  us,  as 
infallible  proof  that  a  man  has  the  mind  of  Christ  in 
him,  of  his  self-denying  labors  for  a  few  months  or 
years,  of  his  long  seasons  of  devotion,  of  his  utter 
renunciation  of  the  world,  its  vanities  and  its  wealth, 
of  his  longing  desire  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  preach 
ing  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation.  Let  us  see  him 
ten  years  after  this,  —  let  us  see  him  thirty  years 
after  this,  —  and  then  see  how  all  these  feelings  and 
purposes  have  worn !  Let  us  see  how  they  have 
stood  the  slow  wear  and  wasting  of  long,  common 
place,  matter-of-fact  years  !  And  oh,  if  the  zeal  have 
cooled  and  the  fervor  abated,  —  if  the  minister,  who 
in  his  youth  never  grudged  strength  and  life  in  his 
11 


162  CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST 

abundant  labors  for  his  Master  above,  have  turned 
lifeless,  careless,  cold,  —  if  the  visitor  from  house  to 
house,  who  was  impelled  to  ceaseless  exertion  by  love 
for  perishing  souls,  has  learned  to  smile  at  the  Uto 
pian  fancies  of  departed  days,  —  if  the  worshipper, 
who  in  youth  loved  the  house  of  prayer  as  a  place 
where  oftentimes  his  warmed,  elevated,  comforted 
heart  testified  to  him  that  this  was  none  other  than 
the  gate  of  heaven,  is  now  ready  at  every  call  of 
business  or  of  indolence  to  leave  his  place  empty  in 
the  sanctuary,  which  now  seems  dull  and  cold ;  if  all 
this  be  so,  what  shall  we  think  —  what  must  the  world 
think  —  but  that  it  was  but  the  fervor  of  a  quicker 
fancy  and  a  faster  pulse  that  was  at  the  root  of  those 
seeming  "  fruits  of  the  Spirit "  which  appeared  in  bet 
ter  days !  But  if  it  be  otherwise,  —  and  by  God's 
mercy  otherwise  we  know  it  oftentimes  to  be,  —  if  the 
path  have  been  like  the  shining  light,  shining  more 
and  more  unto  the  perfect  day,  then  how  hopeful  and 
glorious  a  sight  it  is,  how  cheering  to  the  young 
disciple,  looking  forward  with  something  of  fear  to  the 
temptations  and  trials  of  the  life  before  him.  Oh,  if 
the  gray-haired  minister,  with  less  now  indeed  of  phys 
ical  strength  and  mere  physical  warmth,  yet  preaches, 
with  the  added  weight  and  solemnity  of  his  long  expe 
rience,  the  same  precious  saving  doctrines  now,  after 
forty  years,  that  he  preached  in  his  early  prime ;  if 
after  these  long  years  he  still  sits  by  the  dying  man's 
bed,  daily  guiding  him,  with  gentle  assiduity,  through 


OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION.  163 

the  dark  valley;  if  the  philanthropist  of  half  a  cen 
tury  since  is  the  philanthropist  still,  still  kind,  hopeful, 
and  unwearied,  though  with  the  snows  upon  his  head, 
and  the  hand  that  never  told  its  fellow  of  what  it  did, 
now  trembling  as  it  does  the  deed  of  mercy ;  if  the 
aged  communicant,  that  never  missed  a  sacrament  for 
threescore  years,  still  sits  down  gladly  at  the  simple 
table,  and  confesses  that  Saviour  who  has  fed  him  all 
his  days,  as  solemnly  and  sincerely  as  ever ;  then,  my 
brethren,  I  think  even  the  world  will  believe  that  the 
religion  of  such  men  was  a  glorious  reality.  Years 
may  indeed  have  calmed  natural  feeling  down;  the 
tear  may  not  come  so  readily,  and  the  heart  may  beat 
slower  now  ;  but  the  whole  soul  and  spirit  have  grown 
into  an  unchangeable  set  through  time ;  and  the  man 
could  as  soon  cease  to  live,  as  to  trust  and  love  his 
Redeemer.  Oh,  far,  far  better  that  ingrained,  inevi 
table  habit  than  the  fresher  emotions  of  a  younger 
heart!  Such  souls  are  indeed  linked  to  the  Saviour 
with  hoops  of  steel,  or,  better  yet,  with  those  "  cords 
of  love,"  those  "  bands  of  a  man,"  which  no  earthly 
power  can  sever.  And  surely,  in  the  case  of  such, 
the  Redeemer  has  "  seen  of  the  travail  of  his  soul "  ; 
he  has  his  disciples  as  he  wished  to  have  them ;  for  is 
not  this  the  very  thing  he  meant  when  he  said  to  his 
apostles  ere  they  parted,  —  "I  have  chosen  you,  and 
ordained  you,  that  ye  should  go  and  bring  forth  fruit ; 
and  that  your  fruit  should  remain  !  " 


164  CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST 

Let  us  remark  yet  further,  that  not  only  is  "fruit 
which  remains  " — that  is,  a  Christian  profession  which 
lasts  on  through  life  —  the  only  thing  which  can  afford 
a  man  himself  any  well-grounded  hope  or  assurance 
that  he  is  indeed  numbered  among  the  saved  and  re 
deemed  ;  it  is  also  the  only  kind  of  Christian  pro 
fession  which  will  recommend  religion  to  those  who 
are  not  Christians.  We  all  know  quite  well,  that,  al 
though  it  ought  not  to  be  so,  men  in  general  are  very 
ready  to  judge  of  religion  by  the  conduct  and  char 
acter  of  those  who  make  a  profession  of  religion. 
And  just  as  a  humble,  consistent  believer  is  a  letter 
of  recommendation  of  Christianity  to  all  who  know 
him,  —  letting  his  light  shine  before  others  in  such 
fashion  as  leads  them  to  glorify  his  Father  in  heaven, 
— just  so  is  the  inconsistent  believer's  life  a  stumbling- 
block  in  the  path  of  his  fellow-men,  —  a  something  to 
make  them  doubt  whether  religion  be  a  real  thing, 
and  not  a  mere  matter  of  profession  and  pretence. 
Every  one  whose  duty  has  led  him  into  such  work, 
could  tell  you,  that,  in  practice  and  in  fact,  the  incon 
sistent  and  unworthy  conduct  of  professed  members 
of  the  Christian  Church  is  what  does  more  than  any 
thing  else  to  encourage  those  who  are  regardless  about 
religion  to  go  on  in  their  regardless  way.  Many  a 
minister,  when  he  points  out  to  some  conscientious 
man  the  duty  of  obeying  the  Saviour's  farewell  com 
mand,  gets  for  answer,  "  There  is  such  a  one,  there  is 
such  another  one,  —  they  are  regular  communicants; 


OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION".  165 

can  charity  itself  suppose  that  they  are  true  Chris 
tians."  We  do  not  say,  brethren,  that  this  way  of 
thinking  or  speaking  is  right;  for  every  man  must 
bear  his  own  burden ;  and  other  men's  sins,  or  other 
men's  neglect  of  commanded  duty,  will  form  on  the 
day  of  judgment  no  excuse  for  ours.  But  though 
this  way  of  thinking  be  not  sound,  we  all  know  that 
it  is  common ;  and  oh,  my  friends,  how  sorrowful  a 
thought  it  should  be  to  any  Christian  man,  to  think 
'that,  while  perhaps  he  was  giving  of  his  means  for 
the  conversion  of  the  heathen  far  away,  he  was  by  his 
daily  life  hindering  the  conversion  of  his  next  neigh 
bor  at  home !  And  what  so  likely  to  do  this  as  to 
bring  forth  fruit  which  will  not  remain ;  to  start  in 
the  Christian  race  all  zeal,  and  alacrity,  and  eager 
ness,  and  then  gradually  to  turn  chill  and  apathetic  ? 
No  one  but  God  can  tell  how  much  harm  is  done  by 
the  minister  who  at  his  first  entrance  upon  his  work 
sets  agoing  so  many  schemes  as  set  the  whole  parish 
in  a  ferment,  and  then  after  some  months  or  years  of 
waning  zeal  lets  them  all  come  to  nothing  ;  no  one 
but  God  can  tell  how  much  harm  is  done  by  the  pri 
vate  Christian  who  in  his  new-born  zeal  disdains  the 
quiet  faith  of  old  disciples  who  have  long  walked  con 
sistently,  but  whose  zeal  passes  like  the  morning  cloud 
and  the  early  dew.  Oh,  far  better  the  modest  fruits 
of  the  Spirit,  —  the  "love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering^ 
gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance," 
which  make  little  show  at  first,  but  which  remain 


1G6  CONTINUANCE  THE  TEST 

year  after  year,  —  which  yet  warm  the  heart  when 
flesh  and  heart  begin  to  faint  and  fail,  —  which  last 
while  life  lasts,  and  are  made  perfect  in  immortality ! 
Nor  let  it  be  fancied,  when  we  thus  place  permanence 
above  mere  zeal,  and  say  that  the  "fruit  which  re 
mains  "  is  that  which  makes  most  plain  to  all  men  its 
divine  origin,  —  let  it  not  be  fancied  that  we  mean 
that  a  Christian  profession  which  is  warm  and  zealous 
cannot  be  lasting  too,  or  that,  to  gain  in  permanence, 
the  Christian  character  must  lose  something  in  zeal 
and  warmth.  Have  we  not  known  and  heard  of  those 
whose  eagerness  in  the  Saviour's  cause  might  have 
been  judged  a  mere  fit  of  temporary  enthusiasm,  some 
thing  too  eager  to  last,  if  we  had  not  found  on 
inquiring  that  it  had  held  on  as  warmly  and  energeti 
cally  for  twenty,  for  thirty  years !  And  surely,  God 
is  herein  glorified,  —  surely,  Christian  faith  and  prac 
tice  are  recommended  to  all  men, —  when  the  disciple 
thus  "goes  and  brings  forth  fruit,"  —  and  his  fruit 
thus  "  remains." 

And  now,  my  friends,  as  we  draw  our  meditation 
to  a  close,  it  is  possible  that  some  among  you  may 
be  ready  to  say,  that  you  are  quite  convinced  how 
desirable  and  how  necessary  it  is  that  the  fruits  of 
the  Spirit  in  yourselves  should  be  of  this  enduring 
nature  ;  and  that  you  wish  no  better  than  that,  amid 
the  wear  of  advancing  years,  amid  all  the  changes  in 
thought  and  feeling  which  these  years  bring  with 


OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION.  167 

them,  you  may  still  feel  your  faith  grow  stronger, 
your  hope  clearer,  your  charity  more  kindly  sympa 
thetic, —  you  may  still  keep  the  blessed  views  of  youi 
great  Redeemer  which  first  led  you  to  His  feet,  and 
find  Him  in  His  house,  in  His  Word,  at  His  mercy- 
seat,  as  you  have  found  him  heretofore.  Not  for  any 
new  feelings  and  experiences  do  you  wish,  but  only  for 
the  revival  and  the  continuance  of  the  old ;  and  you 
long  for  nothing  better  on  earth  than  for  the  quiet 
of  Sabbath  evenings  long  since  past,  and  the  happi 
ness  of  old  communion  seasons.  You  earnestly  desire 
that  yours  should  be  the  fruit  which  shall  remain ; 
but  you  fear  that  you  are  losing  ground  in  these 
last  days,  and  that  it  is  not  with  you  now  as  it  has 
been  heretofore ;  and  you  ask  how  shall  the  flagging 
resolution  be  braced  into  strength  again,  how  shall 
the  cold  heart  grow  warm  again,  and  the  happy 
sense  of  God's  favor  be  restored  ?  Oh,  brethren, 
the  same  power  which  implanted  the  better  life 
within  must  keep  it  alive  day  by  day ;  the  con 
tinual  working  of  the  Spirit  must  foster  the  fruits 
of  the  Spirit ;  and  that  Spirit  is  to  be  had  for  the 
asking  in  fervent,  humble  prayer.  Let  us  watch 
against  the  first  symptoms  of  declension  in  religion; 
let  us  remember  that  spiritual  decline  begins  in  the 
closet ;  and  let  us  pray  earnestly  and  often,  were  it 
only  to  keep  our  souls  in  that  habit  of  communion 
with  God  which  is  as  a  fence  against  all  the  assaults 
of  Satan  and  of  sin.  Let  us  guard  against  that 


168        THE  TEST  OF  RELIGIOUS  PROFESSION. 

worldly  spirit  which  is  always  ready  to  creep  over 
us  ;  and  seek  to  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight. 
Let  us  be  diligent  in  the  use  of  all  the  appointed 
means  of  grace,  and  vigilant  in  guarding  against 
every  approach  of  temptation.  Let  us  seek  to  have 
our  loins  girt,  and  our  lamps  burning,  as  those  who 
do  not  know  how  soon  or  suddenly  the  Bridegroom 
may  come.  And  so,  through  all  the  perplexing  paths 
of  life,  —  through  all  the  cares  before  us,  which  may 
be  many,  and  all  the  years  before  us,  which  may  be 
few,  —  that  best  treasure  within,  of  Christian  grace, 
will  go  with  us  unimpaired  and  unchanged.  Other 
things  may  go,  so  that  "  remains  ! " —  remains  in  light 
and  dark,  in  sorrow  and  joy,  when  the  heart  beats 
high  with  gladsome  life,  and  when  it  flutters  its  last, 
and  stops  forever.  It  will  be  a  blessed  support  when 
we  have  little  else  to  lean  on,  and  a  blessed  hope 
when  we  can  have  no  hope  save  that  which  casts  its 
anchor  within  the  vail.  It  will  be  our  stay  in  death, 
and  our  passport  to  immortality.  May  God  grant, 
then,  that  our  Christian  profession  may  hold  out  to 
the  last,  and  that  the  "  fruit  of  the  Spirit "  in  our 
hearts  may  be  that  "  fruit  which  shall  remain ! " 


X. 


THE   DESIRE    TO   BE    REMEMBERED. 

0  Lord,  Thou  knowest:  remember  me,  and  visit  me."  —  JERE 
MIAH  xv.  15. 

ET  us  mark,  my  friends,  the  comprehen 
sive  request  with  which  the  prophet  Jer 
emiah  begins  his  prayer  to  Almighty 
God.  "  Remember  me,"  he  says.  There 
are  many  things  he  desires,  and  he  will  in  a  little  set 
them  out  in  God's  hearing;  but  the  thing  he  asks  first, 
as  a  fitting  introduction  to  all  the  rest,  and  as  indeed 
including  within  itself  all  the  rest,  is  that  God  would 
not  let  him  drop  out  of  sight  and  thought.  "  O  Lord, 
Thou  knowest :  remember  me,  and  visit  me."  "  Re 
member  me !  "  That  is  his  first  and  largest  request. 

We  wonder  how  often  these  words  are  repeated  in 
Great  Britain,  in  the  course  of  every  day.  We  wron-. 
der  how  often,  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
world,  during  the  same  space  of  time,  words  which 
mean  the  same  thing  are  repeated,  in  every  form  of 
human  speech,  and  by  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  hu 
man  beings.  It  might  be  curious  if  we  could  know 
this ;  but  without  any  positive  information  we  are 


170  THE  DESIRE  TO   BE  REMEMBERED. 

certain  cf  one  thing,  that  there  are  very  few  shapes 
into  which  human  thought  can  fashion  itself,  before  it 
proceed  from  human  lips,  which  it  takes  more  fre 
quently  than  this.  Perhaps  not  even  the  perpetually 
recurring  "  God  knows,"  which  testifies  how  natural 
it  is  for  us  in  our  felt  ignorance  to  turn  to  One  who 
knows  all,  expresses  a  mood  of  thought  more  common 
to  rational  creatures.  We  doubt  not  that  many, 
before  the  Deluge,  bade  those  remember  them  who 
should  themselves  be  utterly  forgot ;  we  doubt  not 
that  when  the  parent  of  patriarchal  days  sent  out  his 
son  to  battle  with  the  billows  of  life,  he  made  and  he 
received  the  simple  request  to  be  remembered ;  we 
doubt  not  that  the  dying  mother,  as  she  strained  her 
eyes  through  the  mists  of  death  upon  the  features  of 
her  child,  breathed  low  into  his  ear  some  words  in  her 
own  forgotten  tongue,  in  which,  if  we  could  translate 
them,  we  should  recognize  our  familiar  "  Remember 
me,"  or  some  one  of  the  other  phrases  which  mean  the 
same  thing.  And  it  is  the  same  way  still.  It  still 
falls  cheeringly  upon  the  heart  of  the  dying,  to  think 
that  some  words  and  looks  of  theirs  shall  live  in  the 
remembrance  of  dear  ones  who  are  to  remain  behind 
them  ;  and  it  still  falls  heavy  on  the  exile's  heart,  if 
he  thinks  that  amid  scenes  and  among  friends  whom 
he  lemembers  so  well,  his  name  and  his  existence 
are  quite  forgotten.  So  now,  as  ever,  the  parting 
friend  says,  with  a  faltering  voice,  You  will  some 
times  remember  me  when  I  am  far  away.  So  now, 


THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED. 


as  ever,  the  dying  whispers  to  such  as  were 
You  will  sometimes  think  of  me  after  I  am  dead. 

We  have  not  spoken  of  those  more  ambitious  minds, 
which  have  not  been  content  that  their  memorial 
should  be  kept  in  the  hearts  of  a  few  beloved  friends  ; 
but  whose  labor  it  has  been  that  their  name,  after 
they  had  passed  from  this  world,  should  be  remem 
bered  by  multitudes.  You  know  how  entirely  success 
ful  a  certain  man  has  been  in  carrying  out  his  purpose  ; 
which  was,  he  said,  to  leave  something  so  written 
as  that  men  should  not  easily  let  it  die.  And  you 
know  how  classic  verse  has  bewailed  the  fate  of  those 
great  and  brave  men  who  had  no  one  to  relate  their 
doings,  and  whose  doings  and  names  have  together 
gone  into  oblivion.  For  oblivion  is  the  bugbear  of 
ambitious  men ;  and  oblivion  just  means  the  condition 
of  being  quite  forgot. 

There  is  no  doubt,  my  friends,  that  there  are  many 
things  we  wish,  and  many  we  shrink  from,  without 
much  reason  which  it  would  be  easy  to  set  out.  And 
this  is  certainly  so  with  the  common  desire  not  to 
be  entirely  forgotten  by  those  who  once  knew  us  and 
cared  for  us.  And  it  is  so  just  as  really  with  the 
desire  to  be  kindly  remembered  by  the  few  near 
friends  as  with  that  to  be  admiringly  remembered  by 
a  crowd  of  strangers.  The  moralist  has  it  all  his  own 
way  in  showing  the  vanity  of  the  desire,  and  the  empti 
ness  of  the  end.  Say  you  are  going  away  from  your 
native  land  and  the  home  of  your  youth ;  and  you 


172  THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED. 

think,  perhaps,  that,  amid  Australian  wilds,  or  on  the 
parched  plains  of  India,  it  will  cheer  and  almost  glad 
den  you  to  think  that  the  dear  circle  far  away  is 
remembering  you  yet.  Or  when  thoughts  come  over 
you  of  the  days  when  you  will  no  longer  sit  in  your 
accustomed  chair  at  home,  and  when  they  must  learn 
there  to  do  without  you,  you  fancy  it  would  almost 
soothe  you  on  your  narrow  bed,  if  well-known  steps 
came  to  your  grave,  and  the  tear  of  memory  some 
times  fell  on  the  grass  which  will  grow  over  you. 
Well,  says  the  moralist,  what  good  will  it  do  you  to 
be  remembered ;  what  harm  would  it  do  you  to  be 
forgot ! 

We  cannot  answer  him ;  but  we  do  not  mind  for 
that.  Enough  for  us  that  He  who  made  us,  made  us 
so  that  by  the  make  of  our  being  we  desire  to  be  kind 
ly  remembered ;  and  we  shrink  from  the  thought  of 
being  forgot.  There  is  not  one  of  us,  who  are  accus 
tomed  to  worship  within  these  walls,  that  would  like 
to  think  that  if  we  never  entered  this  church  again, 
nobody  would  ever  miss  us. 

Now,  brethren,  in  words  like  those  of  the  text,  the 
prophet  reminds  us  that  this  longing  is  in  our  nature ; 
and  he  shows  us  the  right  direction  in  which  to  train 
it.  In  this  short  supplication  it  is  as  if  a  kind  hand 
took  us,  and  pointing  to  the  heaven  above  us,  said, 
Seek  to  be  remembered  there  !  And  there  is  a  great 
deal  taught  us  of  the  kindliness,  condescension,  and 
thoughtful  care  of  the  Almighty  and  Everlasting  God, 


THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED.  173 

when  we  think  of  such  a  prayer  as  one  that  may 
without  offence  be  offered  to  Him.  You  feel  that  you 
are  speaking  to  a  real  Person,  in  offering  a  prayer 
like  this.  Not  to  some  vague,  undefined  "  Great  First 
Cause  least  understood,"  but  to  a  merciful  Father 
in  Heaven,  who  looks  down  upon  His  child,  and  "  like 
as  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  pitieth  them  that  fear 
him."  It  was  while  he  looked  on  the  kindly  human 
face  of  Christ,  that  the  whole  heart's  wish  of  the  poor 
penitent  thief  went  out  in  the  "  Lord,  remember  me ! " 
It  was  in  special  clearness  of  revelation  of  God's  love 
to  His  poor  creatures,  that  the  Psalmist  was  embold 
ened  to  say,  "I  am  poor  and  needy,  yet  the  Lord 
thinketh  upon  me."  And  it  was  addressing  a  Person, 
and  not  a  "  soul  of  the  world,"  that  the  Psalmist  ex 
panded  to  greater  fulness  both  the  petitions  in  the 
text ;  saying,  "  Remember  me,  O  Lord,  with  the 
favor  that  thou  bearest  unto  Thy  people;  and  visit 
me  with  Thy  salvation ! " 

Let  us  dwell,  for  a  little,  upon  the  kindly  and  en 
couraging  view  of  the  Hearer  of  prayer,  which  is  im 
plied  in  the  words  of  the  prophet's  petition.  When 
we  call  to  mind  that  this  petition  was  an  acceptable 
one,  that  it  was  a  petition  which  the  prophet  did 
quite  right  when  he  offered,  and  one  that  God  ap 
proved,  how  much  instruction,  and  how  much  en 
couragement  it  gives  us  concerning  God  ! 

"  Remember  me,"  said  the  prophet,  in  his  day  of 
sorrow,  to  God.  So,  you  can  see,  Jeremiah  was  not 


174  THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED. 

staggered,  as  he  drew  near  his  Maker  in  prayer,  by 
that  intruding  doubt  which  will  sometimes  press  it 
self  upon  the  mind  of  all,  and  which  we  know  did 
press  itself  upon  the  mind  of  even  the  inspired  Psalm 
ist.  Did  it  ever  come  across  you,  my  friends,  as  you 
knelt  down  in  your  closet  to  offer  your  evening  prayer, 
Now,  can  it  be  true  that  the  Almighty  God  is  indeed 
ready  to  listen  to  my  poor  words,  and  to  consider  my 
heart's  desires :  Can  it  be  true  that  He,  who  has  upon 
Him  the  care  of  all  the  universe,  of  all  races,  king 
doms,  worlds,  —  in  whose  ear  the  praises  of  heaven 
are  now  resounding,  —  can  such  a  God  be  really  look 
ing  down  upon  me,  this  speck  in  immensity,  this  atom 
amid  countless  millions,  this  poor  insignificant  helpless 
sinful  worm  of  the  dust  ?  David,  Psalmist  and  King, 
knew  the  feeling.  "  When  I  consider  thy  heavens, 
the  work  of  thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars  which 
thou  hast  ordained ;  what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mind 
ful  of  him?  and  the  Son  of  man,  that  thou  visitest 
him  ?  "  Mark,  my  friends,  here  again  we  come  across 
the  two  petitions  of  our  text.  The  prophet  might 
almost  have  had  the  psalm  in  his  mind.  David  found 
it  hard  to  think  that  God  could  remember  man,  or 
visit  him ;  yet  the  prophet's  prayer  goes  to  just  these 
two  things :  "  Remember  me,  and  visit  me  ! "  What 
a  wonderful  view  of  God  is  in  that  prayer!  What 
a  steady  faith  in  God  is  in  that  prayer !  There  are 
the  heavens,  indeed ;  and  there  are  the  moon  and 
Stars ;  and  there  the  little  sinful  creature  of  yester- 


THE  DESIRE  TO   BE  REMEMBERED.  175 

day ;  yet  he  is  sure  that  God  can  be  mindful  of  him 
amid  all  the  other  things  He  has  to  mind ;  and  com 
ing,  like  a  little  child,  to  the  great  Father,  the  little 
voice  pleads,  "  Do  not  forget  me  !  "  And  it  is  not  pre 
sumption  ;  it  is  faith,  that  speaks  here !  Not  a  sparrow 
falls  without  our  Father ;  not  a  hair  on  the  believer's 
head  but  is  reckoned ;  He  compasseth  our  path  and  our 
lying  down,  and  is  acquainted  with  all  our  ways  !  My 
friends,  when  you  enter  into  your  closet  and  shut  the 
door,  and  pray  to  your  Father  which  is  in  secret,  be 
sure  of  this,  that,  if  your  prayer  be  earnest  and  sin 
cere,  and  offered  in  simple  faith  in  Christ  the  Media 
tor  and  Intercessor,  you  never  spoke  words  to  your 
nearest  neighbor  that  he  heard  more  distinctly  than 
the  Almighty  hears  that  prayer !  And  He  will  not 
be  impatient  nor  weary  though  you  ask  His  notice  to 
your  own  little  self,  and  your  own  little  cares  and  con 
cerns.  You  may  tell  to  Him  all  those  little  things 
that  really  make  up  your  life,  though  you  would  al 
most  be  ashamed  to  speak  of  them  to  a  human  being. 
You  may  make  sure  of  a  ready  ear,  sure  of  a  kind 
sympathy,  sure  that  you  will  not  be  condemned  for 
egotism  though  you  say  ever  so  much  about  yourself, 
your  own  sins,  and  wants,  and  weakness,  and  toils,  and 
cares.  You  may  humbly  go  to  God,  and  bespeak  His 
attention  to  your  own  self,  saying,  like  the  ancient 
prophet,  without  rebuke,  "  0  Lord,  Thou  knowest : 
Remember  me,  and  visit  me  !  "  And  take  for  comfort, 
in  your  deep-felt  insignificance,  in  your  sinfulness  and 


176  THE  DESIRE  TO  BE   REMEMBERED. 

helplessness,  the  words  of  one  of  God's  people,  who 
felt  all  that  you  feel :  "  I  am  poor  and  needy ;  yet  the 
Lord  thinketh  upon  me ! "  Little  child,  amid  your 
little  troubles,  very  great  to  you  ;  poor  widow,  schem 
ing  and  striving  to  make  the  scanty  shillings  go  their 
farthest,  and  plodding  about  your  work  with  the 
heavy  burden  on  your  heart  of  how  you  are  to  make 
up  your  rent ;  oh,  believe  it  that  all  these  little  things 
are  known  to  the  great  God,  and  are  eared  about  by 
Him ;  that  He  feels  for  you  far  more  tenderly  and 
thoroughly  than  any  human  being;  that  He  knows 
all  your  little  ways,  and  all  your  little  cares ;  that 
you  have  not  dropped  out  of  His  sight,  or  out  of  His 
mind ;  "  I  am  poor  and  needy ;  yet  the  Lord  thinketh 
upon  me !  "  And  you  may  press  upon  Him  your  small 
requests,  and  tell  out  to  Him  all  that  concerns  you, 
saying,  "  0  Lord,  remember  me,  and  visit  me  !  " 

I  could  willingly,  my  friends,  say  much  more  upon 
this  matter ;  for  I  believe  there  are  few  things  that 
add  so  heavily  to  the  burden  of  many  a  Christian,  and 
that  take  so  much  from  that  peace  and  rest  which  we 
might  find  in  Christ,  as  a  practical  'lack  of  faith  in 
all  this,  —  a  practical  lack  of  belief  that  God  knows 
all  about  us  as  He  does,  —  a  practical  belief  that  it  is 
almost  a  profanation  of  prayer  to  tell  God  in  it  about 
a  host  of  little  things  which  really  take  up  a  great 
place  in  our  heart  and  life.  My  Christian  friends,  let 
us  in  our  prayers  ask  God  for  what  we  want,  not  for 
what  we  think  we  ought  to  want.  Many  a  man,  in 


THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED.  177 

his  prayers,  speaks  almost  entirely  about  the  things  he 
fancies  it  is  the  right  thing  to  ask,  and  says  nothing 
at  all  about  a  crowd  of  little  wants  and  worries  which 
really  are  filling  up  his  heart  at  the  time,  and  which 
it  would  be  an  unspeakable  relief  to  cast  all  the  care 
of  upon  God  in  prayer.  Your  heart  is  full  of  some 
small  anxiety  or  trouble ;  you  are  really  thinking  of 
your  own  failing  health  and  strength  ;  or  of  your  little 
sick  child's  pale  face ;  or  of  something  amiss  in  your 
business ;  or  of  some  slight  mortification  or  disap 
pointment,  which  has  vexed  you  more  than  anybody 
knows ;  yet  you  go  to  God's  footstool,  and  you  come 
away  from  it,  without  having  said  a  syllable  about 
these  things ;  but  having  tried,  with  a  wandering 
attention,  to  pray  for  the  conversion  of  the  heathen, 
or  something  else  you  did  not  then  really  and  heartily 
desire,  but  which  you  thought  a  worthier  subject  for 
prayer  than  yourself  and  your  own  little  selfish  con 
cerns.  Now,  brethren,  you  might  perhaps  get  credit 
from  a  human  being  for  magnanimity  and  disinterest 
edness,  if,  instead  of  asking  from  him  something  for 
yourself  you  really  wanted,  you  went  and  asked  from 
him  something  for  somebody  else  you  really  did  not 
want.  But  just  remember  this :  when  you  go  to  God 
in  prayer,  you  cannot  mislead  Him  into  thinking  bet 
ter  of  you  than  the  truth  ;  whatever  your  words  may 
be,  He  sees  the  desire  which  is  uppermost  in  your 
heart;  and  it  is  the  desire,  and  not  the  verbal  ex 
pression  of  it,  by  which  He  goes.  So  that,  in  truth, 
12 


178  THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED. 

when  you  kneel  in  God's  presence,  you  are  in  fact 
praying  for  the  thing  which  God  knows  you  are  wish 
ing  for.  He  puts  aside  the  words ;  He  looks  beneath 
them ;  He  knows  what  it  is  you  desire.  And  why  not 
openly  tell  Him,  if  your  desire  be  a  right  one  ?  He 
knows  you  are  thinking  of  your  own  little  troubles, 
when  you  are  praying  for  the  Jews  or  the  heathen. 
Oh,  tell  Him  all  about  those  troubles  first ;  and  then 
you  will  be  able  heartily  to  add  your  intercessions  for 
your  fellow-men.  But  remember,  for  comfort,  that 
'  God  "  thinketh  upon  "  you  ;  that  He  "  knoweth  your 
frame  " ;  and  that  He  will  never  blame  you,  though 
you  go  to  Him  with  words  like  those  of  the  Psalmist 
and  prophet :  "  O  Lord,  Thou  knowest :  Remember 
me,  and  visit  me  !  "  You  will  think  of  that  beautiful 
touch  of  nature,  in  a  book  by  a  great  author.  There, 
the  father  of  a  family,  at  a  certain  sacred  and  festal 
season,  asks  God's  blessing  upon  him  and  his.  All 
joined  in  the  prayer ;  and  after  the  others  were  silent, 
there  came  the  little  voice  of  a  poor  child  that  was 
a  cripple,  saying,  "  God  bless  us,  every  one."  Ah, 
there  was  the  quiet  outpouring  of  the  little  sad  heart, 
eager  not  to  be  forgotten  !  There  was  the  "  Bless 
me,  even  me  also,  0  Father  ! "  There  was  the  sympa 
thetic  echo  of  the  desire  of  the  thirsting,  weary,  sinful 
heart  of  poor  human  nature,  "  Lord,  remember  me, 
and  visit  me  !  " 

And  in  all  that,  there  is  no  selfishness.     It  is  not 
the  wish  to  be  distinguished  and  favored  above  the 


THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED,  179 

other  children  of  the  family.  It  is  but  the  wish  to  be 
even  as  the  others  ;  poor,  needy,  sinful,  as  we  know 
ourselves  to  be.  It  is  but  that  when  Christ,  the  great 
Intercessor,  speaks  to  Almighty  God  for  Himself  and 
His  brethren  of  mankind,  saying,  in  the  name  of  all, 
"Our  Father,"  —  the  poor  sinner  should  desire  not 
to  be  left  out ;  should  put  forth  a  trembling  hand ; 
should  lift  up  a  feeble  voice  ;  should  humbly  urge  his 
"  me,  even  me  also,"  his  "  Lord,  remember  me,  and 
visit  me!" 

And  let  us  go  on  to  remark  another  instructive  and 
encouraging  truth  suggested  by  the  prophet's  prayer. 
"  Remember  me,"  said  the  prophet ;  and  let  us  mark 
what  simple  trust  in  God's  wisdom  arid  kindness  is 
implied  in  the  offering  of  such  a  petition.  Every 
thing  is  asked  in  that.  Jeremiah,  indeed,  goes  on 
to  add  other  petitions,  in  which  we  do  not  find  it  so 
easy  to  sympathize  with  him.  It  is  more  pleasing  to 
dwell  upon  such  a  prayer  as  that  in  which  David 
does  but  set  out  more  fully  the  request  in  our  text, 
in  words  already  quoted,  —  asking  that  God  would 
remember  him  for  good,  and  visit  him  in  mercy. 
And  better  still,  in  its  comprehensive  meaning,  and 
in  its  simple  faith,  is  that  prayer  of  the  penitent  thief, 
in  which  the  single  word  conveys  the  whole  desire  of 
the  poor  dying  sinner :  "  Lord,  Remember  me  when 
Thou  comest  into  Thy  kingdom."  "  Remember  me  : " 
that  is  the  whole  of  the  dying  thief's  prayer ;  and  it 


180  THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED. 

is  the  best  part  of  the  psalmist's  and  the  prophet's. 
It  was  enough  just  to  put  one's  self  under  God's  eye, 
just  to  get  God  to  think  of  one  at  all.  If  God  would 
but  remember  us,  would  but  notice  us  at  all,  then 
it  is  taken  for  granted  that  He  would  see  all  that 
we  want,  and  be  willing  to  give  it  all.  Only  to  be 
brought  under  God's  eye  is  enough ;  it  makes  sure 
of  all.  My  friends,  what  faith  in  God's  wisdom  and 
power  and  love  must  be  in  his  heart  who  really  feels 
and  believes  that,  —  who  can  offer  that  simple  humble 
prayer,  and  then  quietly  and  patiently  wait  at  God's 
footstool,  till  in  His  own  good  way  He  answers  it ! 
Say  you  wish  to  bring  yourself  under  the  kind  notice 
of  some  kind  and  powerful  human  being :  it  is  not 
enough  to  make  sure  that  he  should  remember  you ; 
you  must  try  and  explain  to  him  the  circumstances 
that  make  you  need  his  help  so  much ;  you  must  try 
and  point  out  to  him  the  ways  in  which  it  may  be 
possible  for  him  to  help  you.  It  is  not  so  when  you 
go  to  God,  and  ask  His  help.  The  broken-hearted 
sinner  and  sufferer,  that  could  never  get  through  the 
miserable  story  of  sin  and  sorrow  that  brought  at  last 
to  the  Saviour's  feet,  does  not  need  to  turn  back  those 
blotted  leaves,  and  revive  the  miserable  past,  and 
moan  over  the  hopeless  future.  Enough  to  lie  lowly, 
in  want  and  penitence,  before  Him  who  never  cast 
out  the  penitent  sinner,  and  say,  "  Lord,  remember 
me  ! "  The  thief  on  the  cross  did  not  need  to  tell 
the  Saviour  the  history  of  his  sinful  life,  or  to  point 


THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED.  181 

out  to  Christ  the  way  in  which  to  help  him.  For  all 
that,  he  trusted  to  One  who  knew  his  story  since  the 
day  of  his  birth,  —  knew  all  his  sins  and  all  his 
temptations,  —  knew  perfectly  in  what  fashion  to  help 
and  save. 

And  observe,  too,  that  in  such  a  prayer  we  take 
for  granted  not  merely  that  God,  without  any  formal 
telling,  will  know  our  case,  and  know  how  to  help  us : 
we  take  for  granted,  that,  if  He  think  of  us  at  all,  it 
will  be  kindly ;  that,  if  He  interpose  at  all,  it  will  be 
in  love.  "  Remember  me,"  said  the  prophet,  and  said 
the  penitent  thief.  There  was  no  need  formally  to  say, 
Remember  me  kindly,  —  Think  upon  me  for  good : 
That  was  taken  as  sure.  You  will  remember  how 
Joseph,  in  the  dungeon,  asked  the  chief  butler  to 
think  of  him,  and  said  how  he  desired  to  be  thought 
of.  "  Think  of  me  when  it  shall  be  well  with  thee, 
and  show  kindness  unto  me,  and  make  mention  of  me 
unto  Pharaoh,  and  bring  me  out  of  this  house."  And 
after  all,  we  are  told,  "the  chief  butler  did  not  re 
member  Joseph,  but  forgat  him."  But  in  thinking 
of  God,  we  feel,  that,  when  David  said,  "  Remember 
me,  O  Lord,  with  the  favor  that  thou  bearest  unto 
thy  people,  and  visit  me  with  thy  salvation,"  he 
really  said  nothing  more  than  Jeremiah  did  when 
he  said,  in  fewer  words,  no  more  than  "  Lord,  remem 
ber  me,  and  visit  me."  No  doubt,  God  sometimes 
remembers  in  wrath,  and  sometimes  visits  in  judg 
ment.  When  some  sudden  and  heavy  calamity  be- 


182  THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED. 

falls  us,  it  is  not  uncommonly  called  a  divine  visita 
tion  ;  in  cases  of  sudden,  inexplicable  death,  we  some 
times  hear  it  said  that  such  a  one  died  "by  the 
visitation  of  God."  For  there  is  an  inveterate  dis 
position  in  human  beings  to  regard  any  uncommon 
event  as  more  providential  than  one  of  every-day 
occurrence,  and  to  forget  that  every  event  is  exactly 
equally  providential,  and  that  everything  that  hap 
pens  in  this  world,  small  and  great,  happens  by  the 
visitation  of  God.  But  though  God  does  sometimes 
visit  in  wrath,  that  is  not  the  way  that  most  pleases 
Him.  "  He  doth  not  afflict  willingly,  nor  grieve  the 
children  of  men."  And  it  was  a  merciful  dealing  of 
God's  providence  of  which  the  Saviour  spoke  when 
He  wept  over  Jerusalem,  and  made  mention  of  the 
ruin  that  would  come  upon  it,  because  it  knew  not 
"  the  time  of  its  visitation." 

And  observe  further,  that  God's  remembrance  is  an 
energetic  remembrance  :  it  is  not  a  sentimental  one. 
He  remembers  us  ;  He  sees  our  need,  and  then  He 
comes  to  help  it.  There  are  people  who  can  look  on 
quite  contentedly  at  the  want  and  distress  of  another 
human  being,  yet  never  move  a  finger  to  help ;  there 
are  people  who  can  even  sentimentally  mourn  over 
an  evil  which  is  pressed  upon  their  attention,  yet  put 
forth  no  hand  to  mend  it.  But  oh,  brethren,  if  we 
make  our  wants  known  to  God  in  humble  prayer 
through  Christ ;  if  we  make  known  to  Him  our  sins, 
our  toils,  our  temptations,  our  special  needs  in  short ; 


THE  DESIRE   TO  BE  REMEMBERED.  183 

then  He  will  not  merely  "  think  upon  us,"  but  "  think 
upon  us  for  good  "  ;  He  will  guide,  comfort,  enlighten, 
help,  and  save  us.  You  will  think  of  a  striking  proof, 
in  one  of  the  epistles  of  the  beloved  Apostle  John, 
how  sufficient  it  is  for  our  relief  that  we  should  just 
tell  the  Almighty  what  our  case  is  ;  how  sure  it  is, 
that  the  want,  remembered,  will  be  relieved.  You 
know  what  is  the  greatest  need  of  every  human 
being  :  it  is  pardon  and  sanctification.  And  St.  John 
assures  us,  that,  without  any  formal  asking  for  these, 
it  will  suffice  if  we  do  but  spread  out  in  God's 
sight  our  need  for  them.  "If  we  confess  our  sins, 
He  is  faithful  and  just  to  forgive  us  our  sins,  and 
to  cleanse  us  from  all  unrighteousness."  Yes  :  only 
make  known  the  want,  bring  it  to  God's  remem 
brance,  and  it  will  be  remembered  practically ;  it 
will  be  relieved.  And  you  will  think  of  the  advice 
and  the  promise  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  and  all  it  tells 
us  of  the  blessedness  that  comes  of  laying  down  the 
burden  of  the  weary  heart  at  God's  footstool,  —  of 
simply  bringing  it  to  His  remembrance.  "  In  every 
thing,  "  he  says,  "  by  prayer  and  supplication,  with 
thanksgiving,  let  your  wants  be  made  known  unto 
God."  And  then,  says  the  apostle,  if  you  do  but 
that,  hear  the  blessing  that  will  follow  :  —  "  And  the 
peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding,  shall 
keep  your  hearts  and  minds  through  Christ  Jesus  ! " 

And  so,  my  friends,  you  have  seen  how  much  com 
fort  and  encouragement  we  may  draw  from  these  few 


184  THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED. 

words  of  Jeremiah's  prayer ;  you  have  seen  how  the 
spirit  of  them  runs  through  the  recorded  prayers  of  all 
God's  people  ;  yes,  and  of  those  not  God's  people  as 
yet,  but  who  are  but  turning  to  God,  and  seeking 
after  Him.  Doubtless,  in  their  fullest  meaning,  this 
is  the  prayer  of  God's  child,  reconciled  to  Him 
through  Christ,  and  drawing  from  experience  the 
assurance  of  all  the  good  that  is  implied  in  God's 
remembering  us.  Doubtless,  there  is  a  season  in  the 
history  of  the  unconrerted  man,  in  which  he  can  have 
no  real  desire  that  God  should  remember  him,  —  in 
which  his  real  wish  would  be,  to  keep  out  of  God's 
sight  and  God's  remembrance.  It  is  not  the  utterance 
of  the  natural  heart,  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but 
Thee  ?  And  there  is  none  on  the  earth  that  I  desire 
beside  Thee ! "  To  stand  alone,  face  to  face  with 
God ;  to  be  sure  that  every  word  and  deed  is  going 
down  in  the  book  of  God's  remembrance :  these  are 
the  very  last  things  that  the  utterly  worldly  man 
would  wish.  Yet,  brethren,  while  the  words  of  the 
text  may  fitly  set  out  the  exoerience  and  the  desire 
of  those  who  have  long  been  the  Saviour's  people,  they 
may  not  less  fitly  serve  as  the  expression  of  the  first 
reaching  after  God  of  the  awakened  soul.  "  Remem 
ber  me,"  said  God's  prophet ;  "  Remember  me,"  said 
the  psalmist,  who  had  known  God  long ;  but  "  Re 
member  me,"  too,  was  the  prayer  of  the  dying  thief, 
—  perhaps  his  very  first  prayer!  And  that  prayer 
asks  for  everything :  pardon,  peace,  holiness ;  comfort 
and  strength ;  guidance  here,  and  glory  hereafter ! 


THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED.  185 

We  who  are  here  to-day  have  manifold  wants ;  each 
has  his  burden,  each  his  fears ;  yet  we  may  all  join 
with  one  heart  in  the  "  Lord,  remember  us,  and  visit 
us  !  "  "  Remember  us  "  all ;  and  "  visit  "  us  each  ac 
cording  to  his  special  cross  and  need ! 

We  said,  in  beginning  this  discourse,  that  we  won 
dered  how  many  times  a  day,  by  human  beings  to 
human  beings,  those  most  familiar  words  that  stand  in 
the  text  are  spoken  ;  and  in  concluding  the  discourse, 
we  may  think  how  often  those  who  thus  simply  seek 
to  be  remembered  are  remembered  as  they  desire. 
We  would  not  set  it  down  to  want  of  heart,  but  rather 
want  of  thought,  when  we  call  to  mind  how  often  the 
dead  and  the  parted  pass  utterly  from  the  memory, 
how  completely  and  sadly  true  is  that  old  adage 
which  says  that  out  of  sight  is  out  of  mind.  We  can 
well  believe  that  in  many  a  case,  where  the  promise 
never  to  forget  was  given  with  the  true  purpose  to 
keep  it,  time  has  slowly  worn  that  purpose  down ; 
and  now  for  many  a  day  the  grave,  once  often  visited, 
is  visited  no  more  ;  and  the  far-away  friend  is  all  but 
quite  forgot.  I  can  think  that  it  might  be  a  pang  to 
the  heart  of  the  Australian  brother,  if  he  could  just 
look  in  upon  the  circle  that  gathers  round  the  fire  at 
home  on  a  winter  night,  and  see  how  very  little  they 
miss  him.  And  perhaps  the  departed  mother,  that 
thinks  of  her  child  that  she  left  behind  her,  even  in 
the  Rest  above,  might  be  saddened  somewhat  (if  that 
could  be)  even  There,  if  she  could  see  her  son  going 


186  THE  DESIRE  TO  BE  REMEMBERED. 

on  his  path  through  life  without  one  remembrance  of 
her  who  watched  over  him  in  the  days  of  infancy,  and 
taught  him  his  earliest  prayers.  No  doubt,  as  we  look 
at  many  human  beings,  it  is  interesting  to  think  how 
much  they  may  be  remembering ;  but  it  is  sad  to 
think,  too,  how  much  they  must  have  forgot.  But  if 
we  make  it  our  desire  and  prayer  to  be  remembered 
by  our  Saviour  and  our  God,  we  need  not  fear  that 
we  shall  pass  from  His  recollection  !  Amid  all  the 
care  of  this  universe,  He  will  stoop  down  to  think  of 
us,  —  of  our  little  ways,  and  difficulties,  and  trials  ; 
we  shall  never  be  overlooked  or  forgotten  by  Him  ! 
In  our  weak  faith,  indeed,  when  days  of  darkness 
come,  we  may  be  ready  to  think  that  we  have  passed 
from  His  thoughts,  and  that  He  cannot  be  remem 
bering  what  it  is  we  are  enduring.  Ah,  brethren, 
there  is  no  experience  that  we  can  pass  through, 
which  has  not  been  anticipated  by  believers  before  us  ! 
Thousands  of  years  since,  our  doubts  and  fears  were 
felt ;  and  God  graciously  took  them  away,  with  hope 
ful  words  which  are  ours  as  well.  Listen  to  the  an 
cient  words  of  doubt,  and  to  the  blessed  answer  to 
them ;  —  recognize  your  own  doubts,  and  take  the 
promise  for  your  ovm  :  — 

"  But  Zion  said,  The  Lord  hath  forsaken  me,  and 
my  God  hath  forgotten  me. 

"  Can  a  woman  forget  her  sucking  child,  that  she 
should  not  have  compassion  on  the  son  of  her  womb  ? 
Yea,  they  may  forget,  yet  I  will  not  forget  thee ! " 


XI. 


THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD. 

"  For  the  Son  of  Man  is  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost."  —  ST.  LUKE  xix.  10. 

I OW,  if  such  an  incident  as  that  described 
in  the  preceding  verses  of  this  chapter 
had  occurred  somewhere  close  at  hand 
within  the  last  hour,  we  should  have  no 
difficulty  in  feeling,  when  we  were  told  of  it,  that  it 
had  actually  happened.  We  should  at  once  see  be 
fore  us  the  whole  circumstances :  the  Prophet  of  Naz 
areth  in  His  garment  without  seam;  the  crowd  of 
people  that  thronged  Him  as  He  walks  along  the 
street ;  the  publican  Zacchaeus,  little  of  stature,  run 
ning  on  in  advance  and  climbing  up  the  tree ;  the 
kind  Saviour  stopping  at  its  foot,  calling  Zacchasus 
down,  saying  a  few  kindly  words  that  fairly  bewilder 
the  head  while  they  go  straight  to  the  heart  of  the 
poor  disreputable  publican,  quite  unaccustomed  to  be 
spoken  to  kindly  by  people  of  any  credit  or  charac 
ter, —  and  then,  amid  the  astonished  murmurings  of 
the  crowd,  going  away  to  be  guest  at  a  house  which 
it  was  long  since  any  respectable  man  had  entered. 


188     THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO   THIS  WORLD. 

But  it  is  far  towards  twenty  centuries  since  all  these 
things  happened;  and  things  look  misty,  and  indis 
tinct,  and  unreal,  when  we  look  at  them  over  many 
hundreds  of  years.  They  seem  like  shadows,  the  peo 
ple  whose  names  and  doings  are  preserved  upon  the 
historic  page.  They  were  not  always  names  in  a  book ; 
but  now,  in  many  cases,  they  are  little  more.  Events 
recorded  are  to  events  as  they  actually  befell  what 
the  embalmed  mummy  is  to  the  living  man.  Let  us 
try  to  bring  back  that  day.  Let  us  try  to  see  these 
little  things  which  took  place  upon  it,  as  though  they 
were  going  on  now.  The  interest  of  these  things 
ought  to  be  to-day  as  fresh  as  ever.  We  see  our 
Blessed  Redeemer  acting  and  speaking ;  mercy,  sym 
pathy,  and  salvation  in  all  He  does  and  says. 

He  has  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  plane-tree,  and 
called  Zaccha3us  down.  "To-day,"  says  Jesus,  "I 
must  abide  at  thy  house."  Now,  Zacchaeus  was  a 
publican.  He  was  one  of  those  Jews  who  were 
regarded  as  traitors  to  their  country  and  their  blood, 
because  they  had  undertaken  the  odious  work  of  col 
lecting  the  tribute  which  the  Romans  levied  upon  the 
conquered  race.  And  you  know  it  is  difficult  for  any 
man  to  continue  better  than  the  character  he  bears. 
The  publicans,  probably,  were  as  bad  as  they  were 
esteemed.  And  Zacchaeus,  probably,  was  no  better 
than  the  average  of  his  class.  The  Jews  certainly 
spoke  of  him  as  "  a  man  that  was  a  sinner  "  ;  and  we 
all  know,  that,  although  in  theological  phrase  every 


THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD.     189 

man  is  a  sinner,  jet  when  the  word  is  used  in  the 
conversation  of  daily  life,  it  always  implies  that  a 
man  is  a  greater  sinner  than  usual.  Zacchceus  was 
the  very  last  man  that  the  reputable  Pharisee  would 
have  thought  of  offering  to  go  home  with.  It  was 
something  new  to  the  poor  publican,  accustomed  to 
averted  eyes  and  contemptuous  glances,  to  find  this 
great  and  good  Teacher  treating  him  like  a  human 
being,  —  also  a  son  of  Abraham  like  Himself,  —  to 
find  this  pure  and  holy  Prophet  coming  like  a  friend 
to  his  house,  and  sitting  at  his  table.  It  was  long 
since  the  poor  publican  had  been  used  to  kindness  and 
respect;  there  was  something  wonderfully  fresh  and 
new  about  them ;  and  his  heart,  so  long  shut  up  and 
hardened,  welled  out  in  kindly  charity  at  once.  That 
moment  he  devoted  half  of  all  his  wealth  to  the  poor, 
and  declared  that  he  would  restore  fourfold  all  that  he 
had  ever  unjustly  taken.  Ah,  brethren,  if  Jesus  had 
cast  a  stern  look  up  into  that  plane-tree,  or  if  He  had 
severely  bidden  the  publican  to  keep  his  distance,  do 
you  think  that  would  have  converted  Zacchasus  and 
saved  him  ?  No ;  he  would  have  gone  home  harder 
and  bitterer  in  heart  than  ever ;  and  the  next  time  he 
had  tribute  to  collect,  he  would  have  ground  and 
squeezed  and  cheated  worse  than  ever.  But  our 
Blessed  Redeemer,  notwithstanding  this  manifest  and 
instant  reformation  which  a  kind  word  had  wrought 
upon  the  poor  extortioner,  knew  that  some  folk  would 
find  fault  with  what  He  Himself  was  doing.  He  is 


190     THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD. 

going  towards  the  publican's  house  ;  and  He  hears  the 
murmur,  perhaps  only  in  self-righteous  hearts,  that 
says  to  Him,  What  are  you  doing  there  ?  Do  you 
know  into  whose  house  you  are  going  ?  You  are  going 
to  an  evil-doer's  house;  and  not  going  as  a  judge, 
or  as  an  officer  of  justice,  —  that  would  be  all  quite 
right,  —  but  going  as  a  guest,  a  friend.  "  He  is 
gone,"  they  murmured,  "  to  be  guest  with  a  man  that 
is  a  sinner  ! "  As  if  He  could  have  gone  to  be  guest 
with  any  man  who  was  not !  Am  I  here,  the  Saviour 
seems  to  say,  in  the  house  of  a  poor  lost  creature 
from  whom  you  would  hold  apart  ?  Even  you  could 
not  say  worse  of  him  than  that  he  is  quite  a  lost 
creature.  Am  I  here  ?  —  then  I  am  just  where  I 
ought  to  be  ;  "  for  the  Son  of  Man  is  come  to  seek 
and  to  save  that  which  was  lost ! " 

How  mercifully,  you  see,  the  Saviour  puts  the 
case  !  How  differently  from  the  severe  fashion  in 
which  the  murmurers  put  it !  He  is  gone,  said  the 
murmuring  Jews,  to  be  x  guest  with  a  man  that  is  a 
sinner.  He  is  gone,  they  said,  to  a  bad  man,  a 
wicked  man.  They  never  think  of  his  peculiar 
temptations;  they  never  think  of  his  secret  repent 
ance  ;  they  never  think  of  that  poor,  weary,  bur 
dened  heart,  that  needed  but  the  slightest  touch  of 
kindness  to  make  it  melt  and  glow.  They  put  the 
thing  severely  :  gone  to  a  man  that  is  a  sinner.  The 
gentle  words  of  Jesus  seem  to  rebuke  that  severity. 
He  does  not  say  that  He  is  come  to  save  the  cheat- 


THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND   TO  THIS  WORLD.      191 

ing,  griping,  traitorous  publican :  No ;  He  is  "  come 
to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost."  No  doubt, 
the  Blessed  One  seems  to  say,  —  No  doubt  the  pub 
lican  is  a  sinner,  if  it  comes  to  that ;  and  so  are 
you.  But,  He  seems  to  say,  We  will  not  call  him 
that.  You  will  never  win  and  save  a  man  by  calling 
him  by  harsh  names.  Let  us  take  a  word  that  shall 
speak  rather  of  his  misery  than  of  his  guilt.  No, 
not  sinner,  though  the  word  would  be  perfectly  true. 
Call  him  a  lost  creature ;  call  him  a  lost  sheep,  a 
poor,  weary  wanderer  from  the  Fold. 

And  yet,  merciful  as  it  is,  there  is  no  undue  laxity 
in  Christ's  estimate  of  sin.  There  is  no  shading 
away  the  evil  of  sin,  and  speaking  of  it  as  if  it  were 
no  such  very  great  matter  after  all.  There  is  none 
of  the  cant,  which  prevails  in  a  certain  portion  of  our 
literature,  about  human  weakness,  about  strong  nat 
ural  propensities,  —  about  passion  with  its  witching 
voice,  which  oft  hath  led  men  wrong.  The  essential 
evil  that  is  in  sin  is  not  extenuated,  though  of  the 
two  things  which  always  go  together  in  sin,  misery 
and  guilt,  the  Saviour  puts  prominently  less  the  guilt 
than  the  wretchedness.  No,  there  is  no  treating  sin 
as  a  small  matter  here.  You  never  can  represent 
sin  as  anything  much  more  serious  than  utter  destruc 
tion,  —  final  perdition  and  ruin  and  despair ;  and 
you  see  Christ  describes  the  sinful  soul  as  a  thing 
lost :  He  came  "  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was 
lost " ;  and  the  very  word  which  means  the  last  and 


192      THE  REDEEMER'S   ERRAND  TO   THIS   WORLD. 

lowest  extremity  to  whitfh  a  human  being  can  go 
down,  —  the  word  perdition,  —  as  many  of  you 
know,  it  just  means  loss ;  it  just  means  the  state  of 
being  lost.  And  it  is  in  that  woful  state  that  even 
the  kind  Redeemer  puts  it  we  are  by  nature  ;  for  the 
text  was  not  spoken  of  Zacchseus  only :  it  describes 
the  state  and  condition  of  every  soul  for  whose  sake 
Jesus  came  to  this  earth  and  died.  "That  which 
was  lost" :  that  phrase  names  the  condition  of  every 
soul  with  which  the  Redeemer  has  any  concern.  He 
came,  He  tells  us  expressly,  "  to  seek  and  to  save  that 
which  was  lost  "  ;  —  it  is  only  with  lost  ones  He  has 
to  do.  If  there  be  any  mortal  that  is  not  lost,  then 
he  has  no  part  in  the  Gospel  salvation  ;  —  it  was  not 
for  any  save  the  lost  that  Jesus  died.  Losl,  He  says  ; 
oh,  surely,  that  is  not  making  light  of  sin.  Lost,  He 
does  not  say  through  whose  fault ;  but  the  poor  sin 
ner  would  remember  well.  But  while  the  Pharisee 
would  say,  That  man  is  a  sinner,  thank  God  I  am 
not  like  him,  let  me  stand  off  from  him  and  have 
nothing  to  do  with  him,  —  Christ  says,  That  man  is 
lost ;  he  has  wandered  away  like  the  lost  sheep,  and 
of  himself  he  never  would  return ;  the  more  need 
then  that  I  should  go  to  his  house,  and  treat  him  like 
a  human  being :  that  may  melt  his  heart  and  bring 
him  back ;  holding  him  at  arms'  length  never  will. 
Lost :  and  among  such  lies  my  occupation  !  I  see  my 
work,  the  Redeemer  seems  to  say,  wherever  I  see  a 
lost  soul.  It  was  to  seek  and  save  such  I  came ! 


THE  REDEEMER'S   ERRAND   TO   THIS   WORLD.      193 

So,  for  one  thing,  we  find  in  our  text  Christ's  esti 
mate  of  the  condition  of  humanity.  It  is  something 
that  is  lost.  Man  is  a  lost  thing.  He  is  many  things 
more.  You  may  look  at  him  in  many  lights.  He  is 
a  toiling,  hard-working  creature.  He  is  an  anxious, 
careworn  creature.  He  is  a  weary,  sorrowful,  rest 
less  creature.  But  for  the  Redeemer's  purpose,  the 
characteristic  that  surmounted  and  included  and  leav 
ened  and  ran  through  all  the  rest,  was,  that  he  is  a 
lost  creature. 

Yes,  brethren,  we  are  lost !  And  what  wide  mean 
ing,  what  unutterable  sadness,  are  in  the  word,  —  lost ! 
What  pictures  are  called  up  before  our  mind's  eye  by 
that  word,  that  tells  us  what  we  are  by  nature ! 

We  think  of  the  poor  wayfarer  in  the  sandy  desert, 
who  has  strayed  from  his  path.  He  has  lost  all  count 
of  the  landmarks  ;  he  has  hurried  feverishly  hither 
and  thither,  thinking  he  had  caught  some  clue ;  his 
blood  feels  like  liquid  fire,  his  brain  is  in  a  bewil 
dered  whirl ;  and  now,  parched,  fainting,  despairing, 
he  sinks  down  on  the  hot  ground  to  die !  —  That  man 
is  lost! 

We  think  of  the  gallant  ship  ploughing  her  way 
across  the  Atlantic,  —  a  floating  palace,  a  detached 
sample  of  all  the  science  and  refinement  and  might 
of  the  land,  far  upon  the  sea ;  we  think  of  her,  in  the 
deceiving  fog,  steered  at  her  full  speed  upon  the  huge 
iceberg ;  then  the  sudden  shock,  the  wild  despair  of 
most,  the  desperate  efforts  of  some  ;  the  sudden  part- 
13 


194      THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND   TO   THIS   WORLD. 

ings,  the  wild  horrible  hurry  and  confusion,  the  water 
rising  foot  by  foot,  and  then,  when  the  vessel  made  the 
last  sickening  plunge  and  went  down,  that  final  fright 
ful  cry  of  perishing  hundreds,  which  was  once  described 
as  having  been  heard  on  the  shore  eight  miles  off,  like 
a  high,  faint,  prolonged  Avail,  like  the  faintest  murmur 
of  an  JEolian  harp.  They  tell  us  that  that  sound 
curdled  the  blood  of  those  who  heard  it.  Yet  all  this 
horror  we  can  crowd  into  the  commonplace  state 
ment,  that  that  ship  was  lost ! 

Then  we  think  again  of  some  guileless  youth, 
brought  up  in  a  pious  home  far  in  the  quiet  country, 
who  must  go  out  at  length,  like  a  bird  from  the  nest, 
to  stand  on  his  own  responsibility,  and  push  his  way 
in  life  far  from  a  father's  and  a  mother's  care.  We 
think  of  him,  (ah !  have  we  not  known  of  him  ?)  falling 
from  his  early  truth  and  integrity,  beginning  by  petty 
pilferings,  gaining  gradually  in  hardihood,  till  some 
day  the  tidings  reach  the  cottage  far  away  that  he,  the 
clever  boy  at  the  parish-school,  the  lad  who  was  to 
make  his  parents  independent  in  their  old  days,  —  that 
he  has  fled  from  justice  to  some  distant  country,  where 
he  may  join  himself  to  desperadoes,  himself  as  des 
perate  ;  —  and  the  heart-broken  father  and  mother 
never  hold  up  their  heads  again.  And  all  the  neigh 
bors  who  knew  him,  now  look  sorrowful  when  his 
name  is  mentioned ;  and  every  one  who  has  a  heart, 
ever  afterwards  speaks  the  more  respectfully  and 
kindly  to  tfye  poor  silent  old  couple,  whose  darling 


THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD.      195 

boy  is  so  sadly  lost !  "  So  I  lost  her,"  wrote  the 
kindly  genius,  as  he  told  the  story  of  his  parting  in 
childhood  from  the  mother  whom  he  saw  no  more. 
u  It  was  in  the  fever  we  lost  him,  and  then  we  lost 
heart,"  said  the  poor  starving  widow  in  her  bare  gar 
ret,  when  she  told  a  humane  visitor  how  her  husband 
died,  and  she  and  her  children  sunk  always  lower 
in  sorrow  and  want.  "  I  have  lost  a  day,"  said  the 
Roman  emperor,  when  he  remembered  how  on  that 
day  he  had  done  no  good.  "  That  man  is  lost,"  we  say 
of  one  who  is  placed  in  circumstances  in  which  his 
powers,  of  body  or  of  mind,  are  turned  to  no  useful 
account.  It  would  be  easy  to  run  up  the  induction  of 
instances  in  which  we  use  this  word  to  convey  a  vivid 
meaning,  —  a  meaning,  for  the  most  part,  more  or  less 
sad.  We  have  mentioned  these  that  we  may  say, 
that  in  all  these  senses,  and  many  similar  ones,  man 
is  spiritually  lost. 

Yes,  brethren,  such  is  our  natural  state.  No  doubt 
our  spiritual  condition  may  be  put  in  various  ways. 
We  are  guilty  creatures ;  we  are  depraved  creatures  ; 
we  are  condemned  creatures  :  in  all  these  fashions, 
and  more,  you  may  truly  and  justly  describe  our 
spiritual  state,  and  express  those  things  about  us 
which  make  us  so  greatly  in  need  of  a  part  in  Christ's 
great  salvation.  But  probably  there  is  no  single 
word  which  you  could  employ  which  gives  so  com 
plete  and  comprehensive  a  description  of  man  as  he 
is  by  nature,  as  to  say  that  he  is  lost.  All  error  from 


196     THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO   THIS  WORLD. 

the  right  way,  all  distance  from  our  Heavenly  Fa 
ther's  house,  all  destitution  and  danger  and  impossi 
bility  of  return  and  imminence  of  final  ruin,  are  con 
veyed  in  that  one  word,  —  lost !  Trace  that  word's 
meaning  out  into  its  various  shades  and  ramifica 
tions,  and  you  will  find  it  implies,  as  no  other  can, 
all  that  we  are,  all  that  makes  our  need  of  the 
Saviour,  —  His  sacrifice,  His  Spirit,  His  intercession. 
We  are  lost  as  the  wayfarer  is  lost,  because  we 
have  gone  away  from  our  Father's  house,  and  we 
are  wandering  in  the  wilderness,  —  in  a  wilderness 
where  there  is  no  supply  for  our  soul's  greatest  needs, 
where  we  are  surrounded  with  perils,  and  whence  we 
can  of  ourselves  find  no  way  to  return.  We  are  lost, 
as  the  great  ship  is  lost,  for  we  have  made  shipwreck 
of  our  best  interests ;  and  we  drive,  without  a  helm, 
over  the  trackless  sea  of  life ;  and,  away  from  Jesus, 
we  know  no  haven  for  which  to  steer.  We  are  lost, 
like  the  guilty  child  that  by  reckless  sin  has  broken 
his  father's  heart ;  for,  evil  by  nature,  and  worse  by 
daily  temptation  and  transgression,  we  are  left  to 
ourselves,  lost  to  holiness,  to  happiness,  to  heaven,  to 
God.  We  have  lost  our  birthright,  lost  our  Father, 
lost  our  home,  lost  our  way,  lost  our  hope,  our  time, 
our  souls !  And  what  loss  there  is  in  our  unimproved 
and  unsanctified  powers  and  faculties !  How  these 
souls  are  lost,  in  the  sense  that  so  little  is  made  of 
what  was  meant  for  so  much  :  lost  as  the  untilled  field 
is  lost ;  as  the  flower  which  no  man  sees  is  lost ;  as 


THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD.    197 

the  house  built  and  then  left  empty  is  lost ;  as  the 
ship  which  rots  in  harbor  is  lost !  Are  not  these 
souls  made  for  God's  glory  ?  ought  not  every  power 
about  them  to  conduce  to  that  ?  oh,  what  loss  of  no 
ble  possibilities  unless  they  do  I  What  glory  ought  we 
to  have  rendered  to  God,  what  good  to  man,  what 
knowledge  and  happiness  to  ourselves  !  And  if  a  soul's 
whole  powers  and  energies  are  given  to  the  mere  sup 
ply  of  wants  that  end  upon  a  present  life  and  world, 
—  to  the  mere  earning  of  the  daily  bread,  —  is  not 
that  soul  a  noble  thing  lost,  a  noble  machinery  whose 
power  is  wasted  and  flung  away ! 

In  all  these  senses,  and  more,  the  Saviour's  de 
scription  of  us  is  a  sound  and  just  one.  Each  of  us 
is  lost.  We  have  indeed  the  means  of  knowing  what 
was  the  Saviour's  especial  meaning  when  He  spake 
of  us  as  such.  It  should  seem  from  the  parables  of 
the  lost  sheep  and  the  lost  piece  of  money,  that  the 
thoughts  present  to  His  mind  were,  mainly,  that  we 
are  lost,  in  the  sense  in  which  any  precious  possession 
is  lost  when  we  have  no  longer  the  use  of  it ;  and 
that  we  are  lost,  in  the  sense  that  we  have  wandered 
away,  and  by  ourselves  never  will  return.  But  in 
any  case,  the  text  reminds  us  of  what  the  Blessed 
Redeemer  did  for  us  in  our  lost  estate.  He  came  to 
seek  and  save  us. 

Yes  :  "  the  Son  of  Man  came  to  seek  and  to  save 
that  which  was  lost.  "  When  we  were  lost,  that  was 
what  He  did  for  us.  Is  it  needful  to  repeat  that  old 


198      THE  REDEEMER'S   ERRAND  TO   THIS   WORLD. 

story,  that  good  news  which  never  can  be  repeated 
too  often,  but  which  I  trust  we  all  know  and  love  so 
well,  of  how  the  Blessed  Redeemer  came  to  this  world, 
and  wore  our  manhood  about  his  Godhead,  and  lived 
and  died  to  save  ?  Let  us  try  to  meet  a  difficulty 
which  we  may  have  heard  not  unfrequently  stated, 
and  which  at  the  first  glance  appears  to  have  much 
weight.  Can  it  be  believed,  say  some,  when  they 
read  such  words  as  those  of  the  text,  —  can  it  be 
believed  that  Christ,  the  Creator  and  Preserver  of 
countless  worlds,  would  come  to  this  little  speck  in 
immensity,  —  would  live  here  in  human  form  for  three- 
and-thirty  years,  and  here  would  suffer  and  die,  —  all 
"  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost,"  —  all  to 
work  out  fallen  man's  salvation  ?  And  truly,  when  in 
the  starry  night  you  look  np  at  the  glittering  host 
above  you,  and  think  of  their  incalculable  number  and 
vastness,  and  remember  how  it  is  the  creed  of  the 
philosopher,  and,  as  some  have  maintained,  the  faith 
of  the  Christian,  that  each  of  these  gigantic  orbs, 
among  which  the  earth  is  a  sand-grain,  has  its  own 
teeming  population  of  rational  and  immortal  life,  do 
you  not  feel  as  the  psalmist  felt  when  he  said,  in  the 
contemplation  of  that  grand  sight,  "  What  is  man.  that 
Thou  art  mindful  of  him,  or  the  son  of  man  that  Thou 
visitest  him ! "  Was  it  worth  the  Saviour's  while 
to  come  down  to  so  little  a  world,  to  seek  and  save  a 
lost  thing  so  very  small ! 

Yes,  brethren ;  reason  and  experience  come  in  here 


THE  REDEEMER'S   ERRAND   TO   THIS   WORLD.      199 

to  comfirm  the  teachings  of  Revelation  ;  it  is  quite 
credible,  quite  natural  by  the  very  make  of  all  things, 
that  the  Son  of  Man,  Creator  of  the  universe  as  He 
was,  should  "  come  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost."  By  the  very  make  and  nature  of  the  uni 
verse,  if  a  thing  goes  wrong,  it  becomes  a  matter  of 
special  interest.  Suppose  that  some  skilful  engineer 
is  watching  the  first  trial  of  some  great,  complicated 
piece  of  machinery ;  suppose  that  a  hundred  pistons 
and  cranks  and  levers  go  right,  but  that  he  sees  away 
in  a  corner  some  little  piece  of  machinery  going 
wrong,  jarring  and  straining  ;  do  you  think  that  the 
skilful  mechanician  will  for  the  time  forget  all  the 
rest  of  his  engine,  and  concentrate  his  attention  on 
that  little  thing  that  is  wrong,  till  he  has  got  it  right  ? 
And  even  so  we  may  think  of  the  great  Creator,  as 
He  looks  upon  the  system  of  things  playing  beneath 
Him,  turning  away  from  a  million  worlds,  where  there 
is  no  sin  nor  sorrow,  where  there  is  no  jarring  of  the 
grand  machinery,  and  coming  down  to  this  world,  that 
is  wrong,  to  set  it  right,  to  this  race,  that  is  lost,  to 
seek  and  save ! 

Did  not  the  man  leave  the  ninety  and  nine  sheep 
that  were  safe,  and  give  his  entire  thought  and  energy 
to  the  finding  of  the  one  that  had  gone  astray  ?  That 
sheep  had  been  an  unnoticed  unit  in  a  mass  ;  it  was 
singled  out,  it  became  of  importance,  just  by  going 
wrong.  A  thing  which  never  attracted  attention 
when  going  right,  often  becomes  a  matter  of  much 


200     THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD. 

interest  when  it  goes  wrong.  Some  little  detail  in 
your  household  arrangements,  —  some  little  nerve  in 
your  physical  frame,  —  you  never  thought  of  it,  —  but 
you  are  obliged  to  think  of  it  now  that  it  is  jarring 
and  tingling.  And  does  not  the  sick  member  of  the 
family  awaken  more  interest,  and  get  more  care,  than 
all  the  rest  put  together  ?  How  softly  you  speak  to 
the  dying  ear  ;  how  kindly  you  clasp  the  dying  hand ; 
how  anxiously  you  moisten  the  dying  lips  ;  how  lightly 
fall  the  footsteps  round  the  dying  bed!  You  were 
kind,  enough,  perhaps  ;  but  you  know  you  never  were 
so  careful  in  the  days  of  health  and  vigor.  And  have 
we  not  all  been  touched  to  see  how  the  special  care 
and  fondness  of  the  mother  of  a  healthful,  hopeful 
family  centre  on  her  poor  little  deformed  child, — 
that  poor  little  thing  that  must  face  the  toils  and 
trials  of  life  at  so  sad  a  disadvantage  ?  And  even 
so  may  Jesus  look  upon  this  defaced  and  deformed 
world  :  the  poor  object  amid  a  fair  family  of  millions ; 
the  one,  perhaps,  in  all  He  made  that  fell !  —  Or,  to 
take  a  familiar  instance,  suppose  a  merchant  is  bal 
ancing  his  books  at  the  end  of  the  year ;  suppose  that 
in  his  calculation  thousands  and  thousands  of  figures 
are  right,  and  only  one  is  wrong ;  does  he  not  fix 
upon  the  little  error,  and  labor  and  labor  on  that  till 
it  is  put  right  ?  And  even  so,  we  may  say,  does  God 
hunt  out  the  error  that  has  crept  into  creation,  does 
God  efface  the  little  speck  which  obtrudes  itself  upon 
His  view.  Yes,  a  thing  becomes  of  consequence  by 


THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD.     201 

going  wrong.  You  know  that  if  a  man  or  a  woman 
who  never  was  heard  of  becomes  suddenly  a  great 
criminal,  then  that  crime-stained  name  is  for  a  while 
in  every  mouth.  And  even  so,  this  world,  so  to  speak, 
pushed  itself  into  notice  when  it  fell.  Ah,  the  little 
planet  might  have  circled  round  the  sun,  happy  and 
holy,  and  never  been  singled  out  from  among  the 
bright  millions  of  which  it  is  the  least.  But,  as  it  is, 
perhaps  this  fallen  world's  name  may  be  on  the  lips 
of  angels,  and  in  the  thoughts  of  races  that  never 
sinned.  TJiat  may  be  doubtful ;  but  we  know  that 
this  world,  by  falling,  gained  a  yet  grander  distinc 
tion  than  that !  For  three-and-thirty  years  it  became 
the  dwelling-place  of  the  great  Redeemer.  And  we, 
when  lost,  as  it  might  seem,  in  hopeless  loss,  were 
singled  out  thereby  for  the  grandest,  most  precious, 
most  glorious  blessing  that,  so  far  as  we  know,  was 
ever  given  by  the  Almighty.  The  Son  of  God  left 
the  glories  of  heaven,  to  die  for  us.  The  Son  of  Man 
came  "  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  was  lost ! " 

It  is  indeed  a  mysterious  thing,  a  thing  not  to  be 
wholly  explained  by  human  wit,  that  the  Son  of  God 
stood  by  till  man  had  lost  himself,  and  then  came,  at 
cost  of  painful  quests,  to  seek  and  save  him,  —  when 
we  might  think  He  could  so  easily  have  kept  man 
from  wandering  at  all.  Why  let  man  fall,  you  would 
say,  and  then  do  and  suffer  so  much  to  save  him; 
why  not  rather  prevent  than  cure?  The  question, 
we  grant  at  once,  is  one  which  we  cannot  entirely 


202     THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO   THIS   WORLD. 

answer.  We  rest,  indeed,  in  the  firm  belief,  that 
great  ends  must  be  served,  and  shall  yet  be  seen  to 
have  been  served,  by  man's  permitted  fall,  by  man's 
permitted  loss,  else  sin  and  sorrow  had  never  entered 
this  creation.  But  there  is  one  fact  in  the  constitu 
tion  of  our  minds  which  casts  some  little  light  upon 
this  mysterious  permission,  —  upon  the  fact  that  man 
was  suffered  to  lose  himself,  before  the  Redeemer  did 
so  much  to  find  him.  Is  it  not  the  fact  that  there  is  a 
peculiar  satisfaction  in  having  a  thing,  great  or  small, 
which  was  wrong,  put  right  ?  You  have  greater  pleas 
ure  in  such  a  thing,  when  it  has  been  fairly  set  to 
rights,  than  if  it  never  had  been  wrong.  You  have 
greater  pleasure  in  finding  a  thing  which  has  been 
lost,  than  if  it  never  had  been  missing  at  all.  Every 
one  knows  this  who  has  lived  in  the  country,  and 
taken  an  interest  in  the  hundred  little  matters  which 
do  so  much  there  to  keep  up  the  interest  of  life. 
Now  we  know  that  our  minds,  in  points  which  involve 
no  sin,  are  made  after  the  image  of  God.  So  we  are 
justified,  before  getting  any  express  information,  in 
concluding  that  our  feeling  is  a  faint  reflection  of  one 
which  may  have  place  in  the  mind  of  God ;  and,  be 
sides,  we  have  express  information  upon  that  matter ; 
—  do  we  not  read,  have  we  not  got  it  upon  the  very 
highest  authority,  that  "there  is  joy  in  heaven  over 
one  sinner  that  repenteth,  more  than  over  ninety  and 
nine  just  persons  which  need  no  repentance  ?  "  May 
we  not  think,  that,  apart  from  those  grand,  inscrutable 


THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD.     203 

reasons  which  the  Almighty  has  for  permitting  the 
entrance  of  evil  into  His  universe,  —  those  reasons 
which  no  man  knows,  —  this  fact  of  the  peculiar  inter 
est  and  pleasure  which  are  felt  in  an  evil  remedied,  a 
spoiled  thing  mended,  a  lost  thing  found,  a  wrong 
thing  righted,  may  cast  some  light  upon  the  nature  of 
the  Divine  feeling  towards  our  world  and  our  race  ? 
They  are  fallen,  indeed,  and  evil ;  but  they  will  be  set 
right.  They  are  lost,  indeed  ;  but  they  will  be  found. 
And  when  all  evil  that  can  be  remedied  is  done  away 
with,  and  when  that  evil  which  was  remediless  is 
turned  by  the  Divine  wisdom  to  conduce  to  the  Divine 
glory,  may  not  this  world  seem  better  to  its  Almighty 
Maker's  eye,  may  it  not  afford  Him  greater  joy  when 
He  looks  upon  it,  than  even  when  He  beheld  it,  all 
very  good,  upon  the  evening  of  the  Sixth  Day  ?  Ah, 
it  was  fair  and  beautiful  then ;  it  was  right  then ;  but 
it  never  had  been  tried ;  it  had  gone  through  nothing. 
Far  more  fair  will  it  be  to  see,  right  once  more,  after 
being  so  sadly  wrong,  —  sought  and  found,  after  hav 
ing  wandered  away  so  far ! 

And  now,  my  brethren,  as  we  look  once  more  at 
the  Redeemer's  gracious  words,  we  think,  Were  there 
ever  words  so  fitted  to  carry  hope  to  the  most' despair 
ing  !  What  worse  can  you  be  than  lost !  Is  not  that 
just  the  word  which  the  world  applies  to  those  who 
have  strayed  the  farthest  and  sunk  the  lowest  ?  You 
never  can  be  worse  than  lost!  All  sin,  all  misery, 


204     THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD. 

are  comprehended  in  that  word.  And  yet,  for  yau 
Jesus  died.  He  did  not  undertake  to  save  you  in 
ignorance  of  the  extremity  of  your  case.  He  knew 
quite  well  how  sick  you  were  when  He  undertook 
your  cure,  —  how  far  away,  when  He  undertook  to 
bring  you  back.  You  may  have  read  that  beautiful 
and  touching  story,  which  tells  us  how  one  who  in 
the  pride  of  intellect  had  reached  within  a  few  paces 
of  the  grave,  without  ever  betaking  himself  to  Jesus, 
was  arrested  at  last,  and  brought  to  intense  concern. 
But  now  he  was  filled  with  despair;  and  you  may 
remember  how  this  text  came  like  a  gleam  of  light 
upon  his  darkened  spirit.  "It  is  too  late  for  me," 
he  said;  "too  late,  and  I  am  lost."  Lost,  was  the 
reply ;  then  you  are  just  the  man  whom  Christ  came 
to  save ;  "  for  the  Son  of  Man  is  come  to  seek  and  to 
save  that  which  was  lost !  "  And  on  his  gravestone, 
besides  his  name  and  the  number  of  his  years,  the 
same  words  stand  to  tell  all  his  story.  May  they  not 
tell  the  story  of  every  soul  in  heaven?  Lost,  yet 
sought  and  found:  Lost,  yet  sought  and  saved! 

What  more  would  you  wish,  my  Christian  friend,  to 
be  recorded  of  you  ?  Do  not  these  words  tell  where 
He  found  you,  and  whither  He  brought  you,  and  what 
He  made  you,  and  what  Blessed  Friend  it  was  that 
did  it  all  ?  Lost  by  nature,  lost  by  sinfulness,  lost  in 
misery,  in  depravity,  in  helplessness,  in  ruin,  in  de 
spair  !  Lost  utterly  and  hopelessly ;  yet  sought,  and 
found  and  saved !  God  grant  that  each  one  here  this 


THE  REDEEMER'S  ERRAND  TO  THIS  WORLD.    205 

day  may  be  able  to  take  up  for  his  own  those  beauti 
ful  words  of  a  good  divine  and  poet,  whose  beauty  lies 
just  in  this,  that  they  have  so  saturated  themselves 
with  the  very  spirit  of  the  beautiful  and  hopeful  text, 
of  which  God  in  His  kindness  has  allowed  us  to  think 
at  this  time  ! 

"  Love  found  me  in  the  wilderness,  at  cost 
Of  painful  quests,  when  I  myself  had  lost. 

"  Love  on  its  shoulders  joyfully  did  lay 
Me,  weary  with  the  greatness  of  my  way. 

"  Love  lit  the  lamp,  and  swept  the  house  all  round, 
Till  the  lost  money  in  the  end  was  found. 

"  'T  was  Love  whose  quick  and  ever- watchful  eye 
The  wanderer's  first  step  homeward  did  espy. 

"  From  its  own  wardrobe  Love  gave  word  to  bring 
What  things  I  needed,  —  shoes,  and  robe,  and  ring." 


XII. 


CONSEQUENCES. 

"  And  Amaziah  said  to  the  man  of  God,  But  what  shall  we  do  for 
the  hundred  talents  which  I  have  given  to  the  army  of  Israel  ? 
And  the  man  of  God  answered,  The  Lord  is  able  to  give  thee 
much  more  than  this."  —  2  CHRONICLES  xxv.  9. 


is  a  text  full  of  practical  wisdom  and 
instruction.  All  of  us  may,  by  God's 
blessing,  be  the  better  for  weighing  and 
considering  the  things  which  are  sug 
gested  to  us  by  these  words.  But  at  the  same  time 
there  is  nothing  more  certain  than  this  :  that  that 
verse  of  Scripture  might  be  understood  in  such  a 
way  as  that  it  should  counsel  to  folly  rather  than 
wisdom,  as  that  it  should  seem  to  point  in  a  wrong 
direction  and  not  in  a  right  one.  For  it  seems  to  be 
a  rule,  running  through  all  God's  government  of  this 
world,  that  every  good  thing  may  be  abused  to  a  bad 
purpose,  and  God's  holy  Word  itself  like  other  things. 
You  remember  how  St.  Paul  said,  speaking  of  even 
God's  own  law,  that  "  the  law  is  good,  if  a  man  use 
it  lawfully."  And  in  like  manner  we  may  say  as 
suredly,  that  God's  Word  will  always  lead  us  right 


CONSEQUENCES.  207 

if  we  understand  it  rightly.  But  men  have  often 
understood  it  wrongly ;  and  accordingly  it  has  come 
to  be  that  some  of  the  cruellest  and  wickedest  deeds 
that  ever  have  been  done  in  this  world  have  been 
justified  by  the  authority  of  the  Bible.  And  more 
than  this :  when  the  Devil  himself  sought  to  tempt 
the  Saviour  to  presumptuous  sin,  you  remember  that 
he  did  so  with  a  verse  of  holy  Scripture.  Let  us  pray, 
then,  my  friends,  that  the  Blessed  Spirit  of  light  and 
truth  may  guide  us  to  the  right  understanding  of  what 
the  text  teaches  us. 

As  we  go  on  through  life,  and  gradually  learn 
many  things  which  we  did  not  know  nor  believe  in 
earlier  days,*  there  are  few  things  which  impress  a 
thoughtful  person  more  than  the  difficulty  of  laying 
down  broad  general  principles.  We  come  to  discern 
how  much  may  be  said  on  either  side  of  any  question. 
We  come  to  discern  that  there  are  not  many  questions, 
bearing  upon  morality  and  life,  that  can  be  answered 
by  a  simple  Yes  or  No.  An  unexperienced  person 
states  conclusions  broadly,  without  any  limitation  or 
exception.  He  knows  ;  he  is  quite  sure  ;  he  has  no 
doubt  nor  difficulty.  Longer  thought  shows  that  there 
is  something  to  be  said  on  the  other  side.  There  is  a 
curious  instance,  probably  familiar  to  many  of  you,  of 
the  different  ways  in  which  men  may  think  upon  a 
very  simple  matter.  You  know  the  proverbial  saying 
among  us,  universally  accepted  as  a  wise  saying,  that 
we  should  never  put  off  till  to-morrow  what  ought  to 


208  CONSEQUENCES. 

be  done  to-day.  And  Procrastination,  which  just 
means  a  habit  of  putting  off  till  to-morrow  what 
ought  to  be  done  to  -  day,  is  universally  esteemed  as 
a  wrong  thing,  and  often  .as  a  ruinous  thing.  And 
no  doubt  all  this  is  sound  and  good.  But  still  there 
is  something  to  be  said  on  the  other  side.  And 
accordingly,  in  Spain,  which  is  a  country  especially 
rich  in  proverbial  sayings,  there  is  current  a  proverb 
which  is  just  the  direct  contrary  of  ours.  It  is  this  : 
Never  do  to-day  what  you  can  put  off  till  to-morrow. 
Now,  our  proverb  is  certainly  the  safer  advice  for 
most  people;  yet  there  is  reason  on  the  other  side 
too.  While  our  proverb  cautions  against  procrasti 
nation,  the  Spanish  proverb  cautions  against  undue 
and  inconsiderate  haste.  Its  spirit,  in  short,  is  pre 
cisely  the  spirit  of  the  saying  current  among  us,  that 
we  should  look  before  we  leap.  It  means,  in  fact, 
that,  before  doing  anything,  we  should  weigh  the 
consequences  of  it,  —  we  should  think  what  it  is  to 
lead  to.  And,  beyond  all  question,  that  is  something 
which  a  wise  man  will  try  to  do. 

And  so  we  are  brought  back  to  the  text,  which 
suggests  for  our  consideration  precisely  that  subject. 
Almost  any  text  may  be  made  to  speak  what  its 
writer  did  not  mean,  may  be  pushed  into  an  extreme 
which  is  opposed  to  common  sense,  and  to  the  teach 
ing  of  God's  Word,  taken  as  a  whole.  Especially  is 
it  so  with  this  text.  It  might  easily  be  treated  in  a 
rash  and  sweeping  fashion,  which  would  be  very  mis- 


CONSEQUENCES.  209 

chievous  indeed.  The  advice  it  implies  must  be  cau 
tiously  and  guardedly  stated.  This  text  is  like  a 
sharp  edge-tool :  very  serviceable  and  quite  safe  in 
hands  that  know  how  to  use  it ;  extremely  dangerous 
and  mischievous  in  hands  that  do  not.  The  subject 
brought  before  us  in  the  text  is  the  weighing  of 
consequences.  It  is  the  looking  before  we  leap.  It 
is  the  propriety  of  considering  what  is  to  follow  from 
what  we  do  before  we  do  it. 

Now,  here  is  a  case  in  which  there  is  much  to  be 
said  on  both  sides.  You  may  lay  down  sweeping 
principles  on  either  side,  which  are  at  once  true  and 
untrue.  They  are  true  in  a  certain  sense,  and  to  a 
certain  length.  Beyond  these,  they  are  false.  You 
may  remember  how  a  poet  tells  us  of  a  certain  great 
man,  whose  rule,  through  all  his  life,  was  Duty. 
Wherever  placed,  he  inquired  what  it  was  he  ought 
to  do ;  and  then  he  did  that,  or  tried  to  do  it.  And 
the  poet  adds,  by  way  of  special  praise  of  that  great 
man,  that  he  did  it,  "  disdaining  consequences  !  "  He 
did  his  duty ;  he  did  right ;  and  he  did  not  care  how 
people  might  like  it,  or  what  the  result  might  be. 
Now,  all  that,  in  a  certain  sense,  was  very  fine,  and 
very  noble.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  you  could  hardly 
ascribe  to  a  man  any  greater  folly  than  that  he  sys 
tematically  shut  his  eyes  to  what  might  follow  from 
anything  he  proposed  to  do.  In  a  certain  sense  it  is 
the  doing  of  a  fool  to  disdain  consequences ;  and  it  is 
the  glory  of  a  rational  being  that  he  can  calculate, 
14 


210  CONSEQUENCES. 

and  weigh,  and  be  guided  by  consequences.  It  is 
just  one  great  difference  between  an  irrational  brute 
and  a  reasonable  man,  that  the  man  weighs  conse 
quences  and  the  brute  does  not.  A  drunkard,  who 
for  the  sake  of  present  gratification  disregards  the 
ruin  which  he  is  bringing  upon  his  children  and  him 
self,  does  most  unquestionably  disdain  consequences. 
A  young  lad  who,  to  supply  some  present  want,  steals 
his  master's  money,  disregarding  his  own  certainty  of 
detection  and  destruction,  and  his  parents'  broken 
hearts,  does  certainly  disdain  consequences.  A  man 
who,  for  the  sake  of  worldly  pleasure  or  profit,  does  a 
sinful  deed,  and  thus  draws  down  God's  anger,  and 
imperils  and  injures  his  immortal  spirit,  —  disregard 
ing  Christ's  question,  "  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if 
lie  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ?  "  — 
such  a  man  does  most  assuredly  and  completely  dis 
dain  consequences.  And  each  of  these  three  persons 
stamps  himself  a  fool,  just  because  he  disdains  conse 
quences.  To  shut  our  eyes  to  the  consequences  of 
what  we  are  doing,  and  blindly  to  rush  on,  is  mad 
ness.  And  yet  there  are  cases  in  which  to  resolutely 
refuse  to  take  into  view  what  may  be  the  conse 
quences  of  our  conductj  is  heroism,  is  Christianity,  in 
its  highest  and  noblest  development.  When  the  three 
Jews  in  Babylon  were  told  that  the  consequence  of 
not  falling  down  before  the  golden  image  would  be 
that  they  should  be  cast  into  a  burning  fiery  furnace  ; 
when  Moses  saw,  that,  if  he  cast  in  his  lot  with 


CONSEQUENCES.  211 

God's  oppressed  people,  he  must  "  forsake  Egypt, "  — 
must  give  up  power  and  splendor,  and  perhaps  the 
throne  itself;  when  St.  Paul  was  sure  that,  if  he 
turned  preacher  of  the  Cross,  he  must  give  up  a  peace 
ful  life  of  comfort  and  esteem,  and  take  instead  a  life 
of  privation,  toil,  peril,  contempt :  in  such  cases  as 
these,  it  was  noble  to  disdain  all  consequences,  it  was 
noble  to  take  the  right  path  in  which  God  beckoned 
on,  and  to  leave  the  care  of  the  results  to  God 
Himself! 

I  trust,  my  friends,  we  shall  be  able  to  clear  up 
our  thoughts  on  this  subject  by  considering  the  his 
tory  which  is  brought  before  us  in  the  text.  I  trust 
that  it  will  make  it  plain  to  us,  when  we  should  weigh 
consequences  and  be  guided  by  them,  and  when  we 
should  disregard  them  and  refuse  to  take  them  into 
account  at  all. 

King  Amaziah  came  to  the  throne  of  Judah  at  the 
age  of  twenty-five ;  and,  in  the  main,  he  did  what 
was  right  in  God's  sight.  Intending  war  with  a 
neighboring  nation,  he  collected  a  great  army  of  his 
owrn  subjects.  But  he  thought  this  army  not  suffi 
cient  ;  and  he  hired,  in  addition  to  it,  a  hundred 
thousand  soldiers  from  the  King  of  Israel,  paying  for 
them  a  hundred  talents  of  silver,  —  a  very  great  sum. 
But  when  he  was  going  forth  to  the  war,  an  inspired 
prophet  came  to  him,  speaking  in  God's  name,  to  tell 
him  that  these  hired  soldiers  of  Israel  must  not  ge 
with  him  ;  and  that,  if  they  went,  God  would  make 


212  CONSEQUENCES. 

him  fall  before  the  enemy.  Thus,  you  see,  King 
Amaziah  knew  perfectly  what  was  his  duty.  God 
had  made  that  plain  to  him.  His  duty  was  to  send 
away  these  soldiers  of  Israel,  and  to  go  to  war 
without  them.  But  the  King  was  perplexed.  He 
thought,  What  will  be  the  consequences  if  I  do  all 
this  ?  There  is  that  large  sum  of  money,  already 
paid  away  and  gone.  Perhaps  he  thought  of  other 
evil  results  beyond  the  loss  of  his  money.  Would 
not  these  Israelite  soldiers,  and  their  King,  take 
bitter  offence  at  the  affront  offered  them,  by  dismiss 
ing  them  as  not  fit  to  go  to  war  with  the  men  of 
Judah  ?  You  can  easily  see  what  a  crowd  of  difficul 
ties  and  perplexities  would  rise  up  before  poor  King 
Amaziah's  mind,  when  he  considered  what  would 
come  of  his  obeying  God's  command  in  the  matter. 
For  people  then,  doubtless,  were  ready  to  take  offence 
when  slighted,  just  as  now ;  and  a  hundred  talents 
was  a  large  sum  to  throw  into  the  sea,  and  to  make 
up  one's  mind  was  to  go  away  and  bring  no  return. 
But  the  King  mentioned  to  the  prophet  just  one  of 
his  difficulties :  the  more  tangible  and  apparent  one. 
"  God  bids  me  send  away  those  Israelites,"  Amaziah 
seems  to  say,  "and  of  course  what  God  commands 
is  my  duty.  But  then  see  the  consequences.  What 
shall  we  do  for  the  hundred  talents  which  I  have 
given  to  the  army  of  Israel?" 

There  was   the   King's   difficulty.     The   prophet's 
answer  to  it  we  shall  think  of  in  a  little  while. 


CONSEQUENCES.  213 

Now,  brethren,  I  do  not  say  that  Amaziah  did 
wrong  in  naming  that  loss  of  money  to  the  prophet. 
He  could  not  help  its  occurring  to  his  mind;  no 
reasonable  man  could  have  helped  it ;  and  it  is  a  great 
comfort,  in  any  perplexity,  not  to  keep  it  like  a  cold, 
dead  weight  on  our  own  heart,  but  to  talk  it  out 
frankly  to  one  who  can  feel  for  us  and  feel  with  us. 
But  Amaziah  was  wrong  in  this :  that  he  seems  to 
have  regarded  this  difficulty  as  a  fatal  objection  to  his 
obeying  God's  command.  Instead  of  saying,  u  Well, 
God's  way  must  be  right;  and  though  I  must  lose 
that  money,  which  is  a  great  thing  to  me,  if  I  obey 
God's  direction,  yet  my  course  is  clear  ;  I  must  obey 
God,  and  accept  the  consequences ;  I  must  obey  God, 
and  let  the  hundred  talents  go ; "  —  instead  of  saying 
that,  Amaziah  seems  to  say,  "  Well,  that  is  God's  com 
mand,  no  doubt ;  but  I  really  cannot  obey  it ;  for  I 
cannot  make  up  my  mind  to  lose  those  hundred  tal 
ents  I  have  already  paid  for  the  help  which  He  bids 
me  forego."  Amaziah,  in  short,  not  merely  states  his 
difficulty,  but  he  seems  disposed  to  act  upon  his 
difficulty.  And  there  he  was  wrong. 

And  this  brings  us  to  the  great  principle  which 
should  guide  all  wise  Christian  people  in  regard  to 
the  consideration  of  consequences.  The  rule  is  this ; 
there  may  be  great  difficulty  in  applying  it  in  individ 
ual  cases,  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  sound 
ness  of  the  general  principle :  Wherever  we  are  sure 
that  duty  leads,  wherever  we  are  sure  God  bids  us 


214  CONSEQUENCES. 

go,  then  that  way  we  should  go,  whatever  and  how 
ever  painful  the  consequences  may  be.  In  all  other 
cases,  a  prudent  Christian  man  will  carefully  weigh 
the  consequences  of  what  he  may  think  of  doing,  and 
be  guided  by  the  consideration  of  them.  But  if  God 
clearly  points  the  way,  that  way  we  ought  to  take, 
disregarding  consequences.  Martyrs  have  found  that 
the  consequences  of  going  where  God  commands 
were  painful  and  repulsive  to  human  nature.  There 
have  been  Christians  who  found  that  God's  way  led 
them  to  the  stake  and  the  scaffold,  and  the  bloody 
arena,  with  its  savage  beasts.  Yet  that  was  the  way. 
It  was  plain  and  clear.  There  could  be  no  question 
that  the  right  thing  was  to  confess  Christ  before  men, 
whatever  might  come  of  it ;  there  was  no  forgetting 
the  Redeemer's  own  words,  that  whoever  should  deny 
Him  before  men,  He  would  deny  on  the  Judgment 
day.  The  way  was  plain ;  and  as  for  the  conse 
quences,  they  must  just  be  taken.  There  was  no 
help.  Only  by  denying  the  Saviour  could  these  con 
sequences  be  escaped ;  and  the  thought  of  denying 
Him  could  not  be  for  one  moment  admitted.  I  doubt 
not,  brethren,  that  many  a  faithful  witness  for  the 
Cross  and  the  Redeemer  had  his  thoughts  like  those 
of  the  King  of  Judah.  I  doubt  not  many  martyrs 
have  said  to  themselves,  But  what  shall  we  do  for  the 
wild  beasts,  and  the  fiery  stake !  I  doubt  not,  their 
eyes  were  quite  open  to  the  result  of  their  holding 
fast  their  profession.  But  yet  you  know  what  num- 


CONSEQUENCES.  215 

bers  of  men  and  women  are  reckoned  in  the  noble 
army  of  the  martyrs ;  you  know  how,  by  God's  grace 
and  strength,  many  a  weak  human  being  was  enabled 
to  "  disdain  consequences,"  in  a  higher  and  nobler 
sense  than  that  ever  was  done  by  the  most  resolute 
man  in  his  own  unaided  strength.  For  the  rule  was 
clear.  We  must  hold  right  on  where  God  leads  us ; 
looking  for  God's  promise  to  be  fulfilled,  that  as  the 
day,  so  shall  the  strength  be.  In  short,  my  friends,  the 
rule  is,  that  we  are  to  do  right;  and  as  for  the  con 
sequences,  leave  them  with  God.  No  unworthy  shifts  ; 
no  paltry  diplomacy  ;  no  fear  of  men,  nor  crafty  arts 
to  manage  them  :  Let  us  do  right,  and  trust  in  God  ! 
And  remember,  brethren,  we  are  to  do  all  that 
humbly.  We  are  not  to  do  it  in  a  boasting,  vain 
glorious  spirit.  We  are  not  to  do  it  in*  any  strength 
of  our  own,  but  in  simple  reliance  on  the  promised 
grace  of  God.  It  is  not  the  man  who  is  most  con 
fident  beforehand  that  is  most  to  be  relied  on  when 
the  day  of  trial  comes ;  not  the  man  who  says,  with 
Peter,  I  never  will  deny  Thee  ;  but  the  humble  man 
who  stands  in  doubt  of  himself,  and  who  bends  lowly 
at  God's  footstool,  saying,  Grant  I  never  may !  We 
have  all  heard  people  talk  in  a  vaporing  manner  about 
their  determination  that  nothing  should  turn  them 
from  the  path  of  duty.  I  have  heard  a  man  say  that 
if  the  road  were  lined  with  cannon,  he  would  do  a 
certain  foolish  thing  which  he  had  hastily  and  foolishly 
said  he  would  do,  and  which,  at  the  time,  I  dare  say 


216  CONSEQUENCES. 

he  was  very  sorry  for  having  said  he  would  do.  For 
oftentimes  people  try  to  bolster  up  a  failing  courage 
with  big  words.  And  the  people  who  talk  in  that 
boastful  way  are  very  frequently  not  people  who  are 
doing  right,  disdaining  consequences,  but  who  are 
doing  wrong,  disdaining  consequences.  My  brethren, 
the  grand  thing  is,  not  that  a  man  should  say  that  he 
will  go  on  in  the  path  of  duty,  whatever  loss  that  may 
bring  him,  but  that  those  around  him  should  see  that 
he  is  going  on  in  the  path  of  duty,  though  that  should 
not  be  the  path  of  worldly  gain.  And  we  know  that 
in  the  old  days  of  martyrdom,  when  men's  constancy 
was  tried  by  tests  by  which  we  may  be  thankful  that 
our  weak  faith  is  not  tried,  it  was  not  the  men  who 
spoke  most  confidently  beforehand  that  quitted  them 
selves  most  manfully  when  the  day  of  trial  came. 
Men  who  had  boasted  of  the  courage  they  would 
show,  men  who  had  pushed  themselves  unbidden  in 
the  way  of  martyrdom,  have  proved  recreant  at  the 
last,  and,  like  the  over-confident  apostle,  have  denied 
their  Lord  in  the  presence  of  those  tortures  of  which 
they  had  spoken  lightly  in  former  days;  while  humble 
souls,  that  felt  and  confessed  their  own  utter  weak 
ness,  have  borne  nobly  the  trial  to  which  they  never 
had  trained  themselves  to  look  forward  but  with  many 
fears,  have  found  that  God's  strength  is  made  perfect 
in  the  weakness  of  his  own,  have  felt  the  martyr's 
strength  come  with  the  day  of  martyrdom ;  and  you 
know  God  never  promised  it  would  come  till  the  day 


CONSEQUENCES.  217 

that  needed  it.  The  true  proof,  brethren,  that  a  man 
disdains  consequences,  is  that  he  should  disdain  them, 
not  when  they  are  in  the  distance,  coming,  but  when 
they  are  present  realities,  when  they  are  come! 

Now,  my  friends,  this  subject  is  a  most  practical 
one.  It  will  concern  every  one  of  us,  at  many  points 
in  our  pilgrimage  path.  The  same  difficulty  which 
Amaxiah  felt,  many  among  us  will  be  made  to  feel 
from  day  to  day.  The  time  will  often  come,  in  which 
we  see  plainly  enough  what  is  the  path  of  duty,  but 
are  tempted  to  ask,  What  shall  we  do  for  the  hundred 
talents  ?  Ay,  and  for  much  less  than  a  hundred  tal 
ents.  There  is  many  a  professing  Christian  who  is 
very  unwilling  to  miss  a  little  advantage,  a  little 
money,  or  to  get  a  little  ill-will,  by  doing  what  is 
right.  There  is  the  way  that  God  bids  us  go.  When 
ever  there  are  two  paths  before  us,  one  wrong,  and 
the  other  right,  we  may  be  just  as  sure  that  God 
means  us  to  take  the  right  one  as  if  He  told  us  so 
in  an  audible  voice.  But  then,  what  shall  we  do  for 
the  hundred  talents  ?  What  shall  we  do  for  that  gain 
and  advancement  which  honesty  would  lose,  and 
which  a  little  judicious  trimming  could  get?  What 
shall  we  do  for  the  obloquy  and  the  enmity  which  the 
straightforward  course  will  bring,  and  which  a  little 
yielding  would  escape  ?  There  can  be  no  doubt  at  all, 
my  friends,  that  in  this  world  honesty  is  often  the 
very  worst  policy.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  a 


218  CONSEQUENCES. 

certain  flexibility  and  elasticity  of  soul  and  conscience 
may  make  a  man  get  on,  as  concerns  this  world,  when 
rigid  integrity  would  stand  in  his  way.  Nothing 
would  be  easier  than  to  mention  striking  instances 
in  which  men  threw  away  their  chance  of  the  highest 
places  by  an  act  of  injudicious  honesty,  and  in  which 
a  little  toadyism,  a  little  sneakiness,  a  little  sinking  of 
the  downright  honest  man,  paved  the  way  to  the 
greatest  worldly  advancement.  And  the  same  law 
holds  in  lesser  things.  A  trader  who  never  puffs  his 
wares  as  better  than  they  really  are,  may  not  drive 
such  a  business  as  the  brazen  individual  who  never 
spares  the  trumpet.  A  preacher  who  sets  forth  sound 
doctrine  to  people  who  have  not  been  accustomed  to 
it,  and  who  do  not*  want  it,  may  make  himself,  for 
a  time,  obnoxious  enough.  There  are  people  who 
will  think  you  their  enemy  because  you  tell  them  the 
truth,  and  their  friend  if  you  natter  them  with  smooth 
words  of  falsehood.  But,  brethren,  let  us  do  right 
still !  Let  us  speak  the  truth,  and  live  the  truth,  no 
matter  what  we  may  lose  by  it !  Worldly  success  may, 
perhaps,  be  gained  by  unworthy  means,  but  we  will 
not  have  it  at  the  price !  Let  us  do  God's  will,  my 
friends ;  let  us  go  where  God  bids  us  go ;  disdaining 
consequences !  Our  business  is  to  do  what  He  com 
mands  us ;  and  we  leave  it  to  Himself  to  say  what 
shall  be  the  result ! 

And,  as  help  and  encouragement  to  do  all  that,  let 
us  go  on  a  little  farther  with  the  subject.    Let  us  look 


CONSEQUENCES.  219 

to  what  was  the  prophet's  reply  to  the  difficulty 
started  by  the  king.  Amaziah  said,  "  But  what  shall 
I  do  for  the  hundred  talents  which  I  have  given  to 
the  army  of  Israel  ? "  And  the  prophet  answered, 
"  The  Lord  is  able  to  give  thee  much  more  than  this." 
Lay  that  to  heart,  my  brethren  !  In  the  long-run,  no 
man  will  ever  lose  by  obeying  God's  bidding.  And 
just  as  assuredly  no  man  will  ever  gain  by  disobeying 
it.  Yet,  remark,  poor  King  Amaziah  was  quite  right 
in  his  fears  as  to  what  might  be  the  consequence  of 
sending  away  the  army  of  Israel.  It  cost  him  a 
struggle,  we  may  well  believe,  but  he  did  obey  God's 
command.  He  saw  the  consequences,  but  he  trusted 
God,  and  took  his  chance  of  them.  And  sure  enough, 
the  consequences  followed.  He  lost  his  hundred  tal 
ents  ;  and  more  than  that,  the  Israelite  soldiers,  angry 
at  their  dismissal,  wrought  mischief  to  Judah  on  their 
way  home.  They  were  mortified,  no  doubt ;  they 
were  deprived  of  their  opportunity  of  plunder,  and  of 
renown  among  their  own  people.  "They  returned 
home,"  we  read,  "  in  great  anger ; "  and  on  the  way 
they  revenged  themselves,  by  falling  upon  the  cities 
of  Judah,  and  smiting  and  spoiling  them.  All  these 
evil  consequences  came,  and  came  just  because  Ama 
ziah  obeyed  God's  word.  Yet  remember  the  prophet's 
declaration.  Besides  the  simple  obligation  to  obey 
God's  will,  the  prophet  tells  the  king  that  it  was  well 
worth  his  while  to  obey  it,  that,  though  he  migl  t  at 
the  first  lose  by  obeying  God's  will,  he  would  gain  far 


220  CONSEQUENCES. 

more  than  he  would  lose.  Yes  ;  to  go  where  God 
commands,  and  to  do  what  God  commands,  though 
loss  may  come  of  it,  is  truly  not  a  disdaining  of  con 
sequences  ;  it  is  a  fuller  and  truer  weighing  of  conse 
quences  !  It  is  to  look  farther  on ;  it  is  to  throw  Eter 
nity  into  the  scale  of  duty  and  interest ;  it  is  to  draw 
the  wise  and  sound  conclusion,  that  what  is  wrong 
can  never  be  truly  expedient ;  because  it  would  be  no 
profit,  none  whatsoever,  to  gain  the  whole  world,  and 
to  lose  the  immortal  soul !  There  are  always  conse 
quences  from  our  conduct,  whether  we  go  this  way  or 
that ;  and  the  wise  man  will  weigh  the  consequences 
upon  either  side.  And  the  prophet  asks  the  king  to 
do  just  that,  telling  him  that  if  he  does  it  he  will  see 
that  the  true  gain  is  all  on  the  side  of  obeying  God. 
On  the  one  side  there  were  a  hundred  talents ;  on  the 
other  side  there  was  the  favor  of  God ;  and  the  ques 
tion  for  the  king  to  consider  was  just  this  :  which  was 
worth  most  ?  And  many  a  time,  in  little  things  and 
great,  we  are  all  brought  to  just  that  choice,  and  that 
calculation.  The  immediate  consequence  of  our  doing 
right  may  be  that  we  shall  make  a  loss ;  and  we  may 
feel  it  hard  to  resign  our  minds  to  the  loss  of  the  hun 
dred  talents,  —  the  little  gain  in  money,  in  standing, 
in  pleasure,  in  advantage  of  any  kind,  that  we  might 
easily  get  by  doing  wrong.  But  oh,  let  us  always 
look  for  the  confirmation  of  principle,  and  of  the 
determination  to  take  the  right  way,  to  the  farther 
and  greater  and  longer-lasting  consequences:  God's 


CONSEQUENCES.  221 

blessing  on  the  honest  and  right  way,  God's  wrath 
and  curse  upon  the  wrong  and  false  way !  And 
never  forget,  that,  if  in  this  world  the  consequences  of 
taking  the  right  way  be  sometimes  loss,  and  miscon 
ception,  and  undeserved  reproach,  and  failure, »  and 
coldness  of  friends ;  if  the  man  of  high  principle  and 
scrupulous  honor  may  oftentimes  fail  to  reach  the 
worldly  place  and  profit  which  men  of  lower  tone  and 
more  elastic  conscience  succeed  in  grasping ;  if  pliable 
and  squeezable  men  are  found  to  rise  high  both  in 
earthly  gains  and  earthly  reputation :  never  forget 
that  the  next  world  will  set  all  that  right ;  the  next 
world  will  redress  the  consequences  of  all  human 
doings.  And  never  fail  to  set  in  the  front  of  all  your 
calculations  of  the  consequences  of  what  men  do  the 
Saviour's  memorable  question,  "  What  shall  it  profit  a 
man,  if  he  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose  his  own 
soul  ?  "  Yes,  upon  the  most  prudent  counting  up  of 
loss  and  gain,  it  was  worth  while  to  be  a  martyr! 
And  if  the  scorching  stake  or  the  bloody  scaffold 
could  be  escaped  only  by  denying  the  Redeemer, 
then  deliverance  from  these  things  was  too  dear  at  the 
price  ! 

So  I  do  not  ask  you,  my  friends,  in  asking  you  to 
make  up  your  mind  that,  by  God's  help  and  grace, 
you  will  make  God's  will  your  rule,  and  walk  where 
God  points  your  wray ;  I  do  not  ask  you  to  disdain 
consequences  ;  I  ask  you  to  weigh  the  consequences 
of  all  your  conduct,  carefully  and  deliberately.  Only 


222  CONSEQUENCES. 

see  to  it  that  you  remember  that  there  are  conse 
quences  of  all  we  do,  which  reach  on  through  eternity ; 
that  our  "works  will  follow"  us  beyond  the  grave, 
both  in  the  character  they  stamp  upon  us,  and  in  the 
awful  responsibility  which  comes  of  this  truth,  that  we 
must  answer  for  every  word  and  deed  at  the  throne  of 
judgment.  It  is  indeed  a  miserable  and  unworthy 
thing  to  weigh  consequences  in  that  petty  fashion  in 
which  many  do,  and,  when  duty  is  plain,  to  be  always 
thinking,  What  will  such  a  one  say  ?  Won't  this  give 
offence  to  such  another?  May  not  all  this  do  me 
harm,  somehow  ?  My  friends,  if  God  has  made  the 
path  of  duty  plain  before  us,  then  let  us  sweep  all  that 
away !  If  God  tells  us  that  we  must  give  up  the 
hundred  talents,  then  in  God's  name  let  them  go! 
Let  them  go,  though  no  recompense  should  ever 
come,  just  because  God  bids  us !  Let  them  go,  grate 
fully  remembering  that  God  can  give  us  much  more 
than  this ;  that  there  never  was  a  sacrifice  made  by 
man  for  God's  sake  and  at  God's  bidding,  but  God 
has  requited,  and  will  requite,  a  hundredfold.  Take 
no  man's  word  for  that;  listen  to  the  words  of  the 
Reedemer:  "And  every  one  that  hath  forsaken 
houses,  or  brethren,  or  sisters,  or  father,  or  mother,  or 
wife,  or  children,  or  lands,  for  My  sake,  shall  receive 
an  hundredfold,  and  shall  inherit  everlasting  life." 
Let  us  go  where  God  bids  us,  brethren,  though  the 
way  be  rough  and  steep ;  it  is  enough  that  it  is  His 
way.  Let  us  trust  God,  and  do  right;  and  it  will 
all  be  well  in  the  end ! 


XIII. 
NO   MORE   PAIN. 

Neither  shall  there  be  any  more  pain."  —  REV.  xxi.  4. 


HERE  is  no  need  to  explain  to  any 
human  being  what  it  is  that  is  meant 
by  Pain.  We  all  know  that.  We  know 
pain  by  the  best  means  of  knowing :  we 
know  it  by  having  felt  it.  And  we  arrived  at  that 
sad  knowledge  early ;  none  of  us  lived  long  in  this 
world  before  learning  by  experience  what  is  meant 
by  pain. 

There  is  a  sense  in  which  we  may  use  the  word, 
in  which  its  meaning  is  wider  than  it  is  as  it  stands 
in  this  text.  Pain  may  be  taken  to  mean  all  suffer 
ing,  whether  of  the  body  or  of  the  mind.  And  when 
we  speak  of  Pleasure  and  Pain,  or  of  things  being 
pleasing  or  painful,  we  sometimes  understand  by 
pleasure  everything  that  is  pleasing,  joyful,  happy ; 
and  by  pain,  everything  that  you  would  shrink  from, 
from  whatever  source  it  may  come,  —  everything  that 
implies  suffering,  sorrow,  anguish.  But  it  is  not  in 
this  large  sense  that  the  word  is  to  be  understood  in 
this  text.  Pain  is  here  to  be  understood  in  its  strict 


221  NO  MORE  PAIN. 

meaning.  For  you  observe  that  the  writer  of  the 
Revelation  distinguishes  it  from  sorrow,  from  death, 
from  tears  ;  and  as  he  tells  us  of  the  glory  and  the 
bliss  of  the  New  Jerusalem  above,  as  he  tells  us  of 
the  springs  of  anguish  that  shall  be  absent  there,  he 
classes  our  sad  heritage  of  suffering  by  itself.  He  is 
speaking  of  God's  own  people,  when  from  the  disci 
pline  and  trials  of  this  mortal  life  they  shall  have 
passed  into  the  Golden  City ;  and  he  tells  us  that  in 
that  life  immortal  "  God  shall  wipe  away  all  tears 
from  their  eyes  ;  and  there  shall  be  no  more  death, 
neither  sorrow,  nor  crying ;  neither  shall  there  be 
any  more  pain." 

So  it  is  manifest  that,  in  this  promise,  pain  is  to  be 
distinguished  from  that  which  is  properly  called  sor 
row  ;  and  we  are  to  understand  by  pain  that  which 
the  world  strictly  means :  to  wit,  suffering  which 
arises  from  our  fleshly  nature.  All  feeling,  of  course-, 
pleasing  or  painful,  is  in  the  soul ;  it  is  the  soul  alone 
that  feels.  But  pain  means  bodily  suffering.  Pain 
means  that  suffering  which,  though  felt  in  the  soul,  has 
its  origin  in  the  body.  That  is  pain.  And  now  you 
see  that  in  the  better  world  there  is  to  be  an  end  of 
it.  "  There  shall  be  no  more  pain." 

I  feel,  my  friends,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for 
me  to  present  to  you  this  blessed  promise  in  such  a 
fashion  as  may  make  you  understand  its  real  force. 
For  who  needs  to  be  told,  that  it  is  only  when  a  man 
is  actually  pressed  by  pain  that  he  knows  what  an 


NO  MORE  PAIN.  225 

unspeakable  blessing  it  is  to  be  free  from  pain ;  and 
who  does  not  know  how  poorly  and  ineffectually  any 
words  that  human  lips  can  utter  labor  to  convey  to 
another  the  terrible,  crushing,  overwhelming  Fact  that 
is  meant  by  words  so  easily  said  as  Great  Pain  ?  Ah, 
words  are  idle  to  express  the  thing  as  it  is  ;  only  the 
great  sufferer  knows  what  is  meant  by  great  suffering ; 
only  he  knows  the  value  of  release  from  suffering ;  and 
even  he  forgets  it  when  the  suffering  has  passed  away. 
And  how,  then,  my  friends,  shall  I  make  you  feel, 
sitting  there  quietly  and  comfortably  this  Sunday 
afternoon,  what  is  meant  by  the  promise  of  "  no  more 
pain  !  "  There  may  be  those  among  you  now,  who 
feel  some  little  twinge  or  ache ;  and  even  such  will 
more  feelingly  understand  the  force  of  the  text.  But 
in  by  far  the  most  of  you  there  is  now,  I  doubt  not, 
perfect  freedom  from  pain ;  heart  and  head  and  limb 
are  right ;  the  entire  bodily  machinery  plays  without 
a  jar.  How  shall  we  understand  and  realize  the 
value  of  that  absence  of  pain  which  has  grown  to  us  a 
thing  so  common  and  so  cheap  !  Let  us  try  to  recall 
the  days  of  suffering  we  have  known  !  Let  us  call 
back  the  days  when  we  learned  that  the  spasm  of 
some  little  nerve,  that  a  little  inflammation  of  muscular 
tissue,  that  a  little  extra  pressure  upon  brain  or  heart, 
might  bring  long  nights  of  sleepless  agony,  —  might 
not  merely  "destroy  utterly  the  enjoyment  of  life,  but 
unfit  utterly  for  the  duties  of  life ;  let  us  think  of 
the  anguished  face,  and  the  convulsed  limb,  and  the 
15 


226  NO  MORE  PAIN. 

deadly  chill  and  faint-ness,  that  have  come  with  pain  ; 
let  us  think  of  the  sudden  insight  which  in  such 
moments  we  have  had,  into  the  tremendous  depths  of 
misery  which  these  poor  natures  of  ours  can  bear 
without  annihilation  ;  and  with  such  remembrances  in 
our  hearts,  let  us,  praying  for  the  direction  of  God's 
Holy  Spirit,  address  ourselves  to  the  consideration  of 
the  solemn  lessons,  as  well  as  the  blessed  encourage 
ments,  which  this  text  may  fitly  suggest  to  us. 

In  the  better  world  above,  then,  pain  shall  be  un 
known.  And  although,  my  friends,  I  am  more  and 
more  persuaded,  by  longer  experience,  that  it  is  the 
deep  sense  of  God's  love  and  mercy  in  Christ  to  us 
poor  sinners,  and  a  responsive  love  and  gratitude  and 
trust  in  our  Blessed  Redeemer  and  in  God  manifested 
in  Plim,  that  shall  draw  our  souls  to  God,  and  lead  us 
onward  in  the  path  of  life,  far  more  than  any  mere 
dread  of  Hell  as  a  place  of  insufferable  pain,  or  any 
mere  wish  for  Heaven  as  a  place  of  unspeakable 
glory  and  happiness,  —  still,  brethren,  different  mo 
tives  work  with  especial  power  upon  different  human 
beings  ;  and  the  wish  to  escape  woe  and  to  attain 
happiness  is  placed  in  the  nature  of  all  of  us  by  our 
Maker,  and  is  not  intended  to  be  ever  eradicated ; 
and  it  is  very  fit  and  right  that  our  longings  after 
the  Paradise  above  should  be  quickened  by  thoughts 
of  its  blessedness,  —  of  all  the  happiness  which  shall 
there  be  present,  —  of  all  the  anguish  which  shall 
thence  be  far  away.  Many  a  poor  sufferer,  doubtless, 


NO  MORE  PAIN.  227 

will  cherish  a  very  soothing  and  cheering  thought  of 
Heaven,  as  the  place  —  as  the  only  place  in  all  the 
universe  —  where  there  is  "  no  more  pain."  And 
even  those  who  have  never  experienced  very  pro 
longed,  or  very  overwhelming  suffering,  will  hail  the 
like  assurance  with  great  delight.  Pain  is,  in  itself, 
never  a  desirable  thing.  Great  good  may  come 
through  it,  or  of  it ;  and  we  may  be  content  to  bear 
it  for  the  good  that  is  to  come  of  it ;  but  the  actual 
suffering,  in  itself,  must  always  be  a  thing  from  which 
we  would,  if  it  were  possible,  shrink  away.  No  man 
can  like  to  be  in  pain  for  the  sake  of  the  pain  itself. 
You  know  how  pain,  even  when  not  very  great,  and 
even  when  not  likely  to  be  followed  by  serious  conse 
quences,  destroys  the  enjoyment  of  life.  A  thousand 
blessings  may  be  neutralized,  so  far  as  concerns  their 
power  of  making  us  happy,  by  one  little  fretting 
pain.  Say  it  is  a  beautiful  evening  of  summer,  and 
you  are  looking  at  a  sweet  country  landscape ;  you 
know  that  acute  suffering,  present  in  the  little  nerve 
of  one  tooth,  will  effectually  call  off  your  attention 
from  all  the  beauty  that  surrounds  you,  will  utterly 
destroy  your  enjoyment  of  it  all.  You  know  that 
if  a  man  were  surrounded  by  all  conceivable  worldly 
advantages,  if  he  had  a  charming  home,  and  abun 
dant  wealth,  and  all  the  comforts  and  elegancies  that 
abundant  wealth  can  buy,  still,  if  he  were  in  cease 
less  pain,  if  day  and  night  he  never  knew  release 
from  the  gnawing,  wearing,  depressing  grasp  of  bodily 


228  NO  MORE  PAIN. 

suffering,  he  would  lead  but  a  dreary  life  after  all. 
For  pain  is  a  thing  that  you  cannot  well  forget 
while  you  are  enduring  it ;  it  has  a  wonderful  power 
of  compelling  attention  to  itself ;  you  cannot  long  or 
heartily  think  of  anything  else,  while  you  are  suffer 
ing  acute  pain.  How  long  it  makes  the  hours  seem, 
how  weary  the  night,  how  blank  the  day  !  But  pain 
does  worse  than  mar  the  enjoyment  of  life  ;  it  unfits, 
as  a  general  rule,  for  the  work  and  duty  of  life.  No 
doubt  there  have  been  men  who  did  nobly  the  work 
God  set  them  in  this  world,  even  with  all  the  dis 
advantage  of  being  burdened  with  almost  ceaseless 
pain ;  no  doubt  there  have  been  men  who,  even  with 
all  that  disadvantage,  have  been  able  to  form  sound 
and  hopeful  views  of  human  affairs,  and  to  sympa 
thize  heartily  with  the  cheerful,  no  less  than  with  the 
sorrowful ;  possibly  some  of  us  may  have  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  knowing  those  who,  even  with  all  that 
disadvantage,  have  produced  such  beautiful,  touching, 
and  far-reaching  thoughts,  as  have  moved  the  heart 
and  formed  the  mind  of  thousands.  But  this  is  not 
the  common  way  in  which  things  go.  As  the  general 
rule,  you  cannot  do  your  \vork  well  when  you  are 
suffering  pain,  even  if  not  very  great.  It  worries 
you  ;  it  draws  off  your  attention  from  what  you  are 
about ;  you  have  no  heart  for  your  task ;  you  cannot 
put  yourself  at  it  in  that  thorough,  earnest,  energetic 
fashion  in  which  you  must  go  at  any  work  which  you 
would  wish  to  do  well,  —  which  you  would  wish  to 


NO  MORE  PAIN.  229 

do  to  the  very  best  of  your  ability.  And  tliere  are 
worse  possibilities  about  pain  than  even  these.  I  do 
not  forget  that  by  God's  Blessed  Spirit's  working,  it 
has  often  been  sanctified  to  work  the  soul  great  good ; 
it  has  served  to  wean  the  affections  from  the  things 
of  time  and  sense ;  it  has  been  like  the  furnace-fire 
in  which  the  soul  has  been  purified  like  some  precious 
metal.  But  this,  brethren,  is  the  tendency  of  pain 
sanctified ;  it  is  not  the  simple  and  natural  tendency 
of  pain.  Do  not  you  know  that  pain  just  as  fre 
quently  makes  the  sufferer  fretful  and  impatient, 
peevish  and  ill-tempered  to  those  around,  nay,  ready 
to  repine  at  the  allotment  and  providence  of  God ! 
"  Curse  God  and  die  "  is  just  as  natural  a  tendency 
of  pain  as  is  "  Father,  let  this  cup  pass  away  ;  yet 
not  My  will,  but  Thine,  be  done  ! "  And  if  we  have 
heard  of  those  whom  sanctified  suffering  purified  and 
elevated  and  refined,  till  through  the  worn  features 
you  could  almost  see  the  angel's  nature,  who  is  there 
but  has  heard  of,  and  perhaps  has  seen,  instances  in 
which  protracted  suffering,  acting  upon  an  unrenewed 
heart,  has  developed  a  wrath,  a  bitterness,  a  defiance 
of  God,  a  malignity  towards  man,  that  looked  like  the 
demon  incarnate  ! 

And  thinking  of  all  these  things  about  pain,  think 
ing  of  the  unutterable  anguish  it  sometimes  means, 
thinking  of  how  it  may  embitter  life  and  unfit  for 
duty,  and  bring  to  a  spiritual  frame  the  most  hard 
ened  and  fearful,  well  may  we  hail  with  delight  the 


230  NO  MORE  PAIN. 

assurance  that  there  is  a  world  where  it  shall  be  un 
known.  No  pain  in  heaven!  No  little  irritating 
disquiet ;  no  sharp  piercing  pang ;  no  great  over 
whelming  agony,  that  tells  its  tale  in  groans  and 
shrieks  that  wears  out  life,  that  racks  and  maddens ! 
Yet  not  that  it  shall  be  there,,  that  you  escape  pain  by 
giving  up  pleasure ;  not  that  you  cease  to  feel  pain, 
because  you  cease  to  feel  at  all.  No ;  the  soul  in 
glory  shall  still  be  invested  with  a  bodily  frame,  the 
most  delicately  sensitive,  alive  to  every  thrill  of  bliss, 
feeling  all  feeling  with  a  keenness  and  intensity  never 
known  before ;  the  perfection,  in  short,  of  a  sensitive 
material  nature,  a  nature  which,  doubtless,  could  feel 
suffering  with  fearful  reality,  if  suffering  could  ever 
come  there.  But  in  that  better  country  there  shall 
be  absent  forever  the  cause  in  suffering,  no  less  than 
the  signs  in  tears  ;  for  "  there  shall  be  no  more  death, 
neither  sorrow,  nor  crying ;  neither  shall  there  be  any 
more  pain !  " 

But  all  this  naturally  leads  us  to  ask,  If  pain  be  so 
bad  a  thing,  and  if  it  be  so  happy  an  assurance  that 
the  day  is  coming  when  there  shall  be  no  more  of  it, 
why  is  it  here  at  all?  Why  is  there  such  a  thing 
now  ?  Well,  brethren,  I  do  not  think  it  would  stagger 
our  trust  in  God's  wisdom  and  goodness,  even  if  we 
could  find  no  answer  at  all  to  that  question.  It  would 
only  be  part  of  the  great  question  as  to  why  Evil  is  at 
all  permitted  in  this  creation  ;  and  the  answer  to  that 


NO  MORE  PAIN.  231 

question  is  one  of  those  secret  things  which  belong  to 
God.  But  in  the  matter  of  pain,  we  can,  in  so  far, 
answer  the  question.  We  can  discern  several  impor 
tant  uses  which  are  served  by  pain ;  and  we  can  dis 
cern,  too,  that  pain  will  not  be  needed  for  these  uses 
in  the  better  world.  It  will  not  cease  till  its  occupa 
tion  is  gone.  The  lessons  it  is  meant  to  teach  us 
will  not  be  wanted  there.  They  will  be  well  remem 
bered,  without  our  having  pain  ever  (so  to  speak)  at 
our  elbow  to  remind  us  of  them. 

For  what  are  lessons  which  are  taught  us  by  pain  ? 

Pain  teaches  us,  for  one  thing,  how  feeble  and  de 
pendent  we  are.  If  any  man  were  foolish  enough  to 
think  that  he  might  set  up  for  himself,  that  he  might 
go  on  for  himself,  that  he  could  do  without  leaning  at 
every  step  and  every  moment  upon  the  arm  of  God, 
I  think  pain  would  convince  him  of  his  folly.  What 
a  humbling  thing  great  pain  is  !  How  it  takes  down 
pride  and  obstinacy ;  how  little  power  it  leaves  us  to 
think  of  the  impression  we  may  be  making  on  others ! 
The  proverb  -says  that  pride  feels  no  pain ;  only  let 
the  pain  be  great  enough,  and  where  will  be  the 
pride  !  I  call  to  remembrance  a  certain  scene.  It  is 
in  the  beautiful  city  of  Cajsarea.  It  is  the  theatre : 
a  vast  crowd  is  assembled;  there  is  a  magnificent 
throne,  and  on  it  sits  a  king.  His  robe  was  of  silver 
tissue,  and  shone  brilliantly  in  the  morning  sun  as  he 
made  an  oration,  no  doubt  in  arrogant  enough  terms, 
to  certain  people  who  had  offended  him.  So  august 


232  NO  MOKE  PAIN. 

was  his  appearance,  so  lofty  his  language,  that  "  the 
people  gave  a  shout,  saying,  It  is  the  voice  of  God, 
and  not  of  a  man  ! "  Herod  half  believed  them ! 
You  can  imagine  that,  if  not  a  God,  he  looked  every 
inch  a  king.  But  in  that  moment  a  fearful,  over 
whelming  agony  grasped  him ;  and  the  poor  miser 
able  wretch,  still  in  his  grand  dress,  was  carried  out, 
groaning  and  shrieking,  and  smitten  with  a  horrible 
loathsome  death.  Oh,  what  a  mockery  of  his  gran 
deur,  a  minute  since  !  Oh,  what  a  scoffer  at  human 
pride,  what  a  teacher  of  human  dependence  and  help 
lessness,  is  overmastering  pain  ! 

And  for  a  second  thing,  pain  is  something  to  remind 
us  of  the  Evil  of  Sin.  Not  but  what  sin's  badness 
dwells  in  itself,  apart  quite  from  any  sad  consequences 
that  flow  from  it,  but  there  are  many  souls,  somewhat 
blunted  and  dull  in  perception,  who  can  discern  more 
vividly  that  physical  agony  is  a  bad  thing  than  that 
moral  evil  is  a  bad  thing.  And  just  as  the  index  on 
the  dial  of  the  barometer,  as  it  goes  down  and  down, 
is  something  to  tell  of  the  impending  hurricane,  so 
all  the  pain  that  darkens  this  world  is  something  to 
indicate  how  bitterly  bad  a  thing  is  sin.  Every  child 
knows,  that,  had  there  been  no  sin,  there  would  have 
been  no  pain ;  and  the  worse  pain  is,  the  worse  it 
proves  sin  to  be.  And  so  pain  is  an  ever-present 
reminder  of  a  thing  we  are  all  far  too  ready  to  forget. 
Oh,  if  we  could  interpret  pain  aright,  —  if  we  could 
remember  its  meaning  every  time  it  shows  us  its 


NO  MORE  PAIN.  233 

sorrowful  features,  —  how  constantly  we  should  have 
impressed  upon  us  how  fearful  a  thing  is  sin  !  You 
have  every  one  of  you  known  pain.  Well,  just  fix 
this  in  your  minds,  that  all  the  pain  you  have  ever 
suffered  was  the  effect  of  sin.  You  never  would  have 
had  a  headache,  if  it  had  'not  been  for  sin.  You 
never  would  have  known  a  sleepless  night,  a  shooting 
pang  through  the  nerves,  or  a  dull  weight  at  the  heart, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  sin.  If  it  had  not  been  for  sin, 
this  world  would  never  have  seen  faces  sharp  with 
pain,  nor  forms  wasted  with  pain.  There  would  have 
been  no  hospitals  nor  infirmaries  ;  no  need  for  science 
seeking  agents  that  might  dull  to  suffering  by  dulling 
to  all  sense  ;  none  of  that  sad  literature,  so  interesting, 
yet  so  sad,  that  sets  out  the  nature  and  causes  and 
remedies  of  the  countless  pangs  that  flesh  is  heir  to. 
Now,  brethren,  we  need  to  have  it  pressed  home  upon 
us,  and  pressed  often  upon,  us,  that  sin  is  a  bad  thing. 
Our  natural  tendency  is  to  think  to  ourselves,  Oh,  sin 
is  not  right,  —  it  cannot  be  justified,  —  it  is  bad  no 
doubt,  —  but  it  is  not  such  a  very  great  matter  after 
all.  —  What  does  pain  say  to  that,  think  you  !  You 
know  whether  pain,  crushing,  intolerable,  maddening 
pain,  is  a  small  matter.  And  pain,  remember,  is  only 
one  sad  consequence  of  sin  ;  pain  is  sin  manifesting 
its  tendencies  in  only  one  direction.  There  are  a  score 
of  evil  things  and  tendencies  about  sin  besides  this  ! 
All  the  agonies  you  have  ever  felt,  ever  seen ;  all 
the  anguish  which  even  stout-hearted  men  have  said 


234  NO  MORE  PAIN. 

would  have  driven  them  mad,  if  it  had  lasted  but  a 
few  minutes  longer ;  all  that  has  ever  left  its  trace  on 
the  ghastly  face  and  the  hollow  wistful  eye ;  all  that 
has  been  something  to  tell  us,  that,  bad  as  it  may  be, 
there  is  something  worse, — something  of  whose  in 
tense  unmingled  bitterness  it  is  but  a  faint,  feeble 
manifestation,  —  and  that  something,  that  black,  mys 
terious,  awful  something,  —  sin  ! 

And  another  lesson  taught  us  by  pain  is  suggested 
by  this:  It  is  how  terribly  God  can  punish;  what 
tremendous  appliances  of  punishment  He  has  at  His 
command.  I  have  no  taste  for  dwelling  on  such  a 
subject;  I  would  rather  think  of  the  love  of  Christ 
than  of  terrors  of  judgment;  but  we  must  face  the 
truth,  my  friends.  You  cannot  do  away  a  fearful 
fact  merely  by  turning  your  back  upon  it.  A  thing 
does  not  cease  to  be,  because  you  may  shut  your  eyes 
and  refuse  to  see  it.  —  Now,  my  friends,  people  some 
times  say,  God  is  merciful,  —  He  is  all  love,  —  He 
will  never  inflict  upon  His  poor  creatures  such  terrible 
sufferings  as  seem  to  be  threatened  in  certain  texts  of 
the  Bible.  Brethren,  what  does  pain,  the  pain  we 
have  ourselves  felt  and  seen,  —  what  does  it  say  to 
such  a  thought?  What  fearful  suffering  God  does 
inflict  even  in  this  world!  You  have  seen  some 
wretched  being  dying  of  a  disease  that  made  him  ap 
palling  to  look  at,  —  that  kept  him  for  weeks  (I  have 
known  it  months)  in  sleepless,  unutterable  agony ;  — 
Who  kept  that  wretched  being  in  that  unutterable 


NO  MORE  PAIN.  235 

agony  ?  Who,  but  God !  God,  in  His  mysterious,  un 
searchable  sovereignty !  No  man  would  have  kept 
that  poor  sufferer  in  that  suffering  for  one  minute. 
But  God  keeps  him  there,  keeps  him  day  after  day, 
week  after  week.  Oh,  my  friends,  we  have  an  in 
flexible  Judge  to  face,  merciful  though  He  be  !  So, 
pain  teaches  us  something  of  the  severity  of  God. 
Now,  if  you  have  ever  suffered  great,  unspeakable 
pain,  think :  Here  is  a  glimpse  of  what  it  is  possible 
for  a  human  being  to  suffer ;  Here  is  a  hint  of  how 
dreadfully  God  can  punish ;  Here  is  a  distant  glimpse 
of  what  perdition  may  be  ! 

But  I  turn  gladly  to  another  lesson,  a  far  happier 
lesson,  taught  us  by  pain.  It  reminds  us  how  great 
was  our  Blessed  Saviour's  love  for  our  poor  sinful 
souls,  which  made  Him  bear  such  an  unutterable  load 
of  anguish  as  He  bore  for  us.  —  You  know  that  we 
in  this  world  always  like  to  have  some  standard  by 
which  to  measure  things.  Merely  to  say  that  a  thing 
is  very  great  and  big,  fails  to  convey  to  us  a  clear 
idea ;  we  need  to  get  a  standard  by  which  to  esti 
mate  it,  and  thus  discover  how  great  it  is.  You  tell 
us  that  it  is  a  long,  long  way  to  some  far-away  place ; 
well,  that  leaves  us  with  rather  a  vague  notion  of  the 
distance ;  but  measure  it  by  some  standard,  —  say  it 
is  five  hundred  miles  or  a  thousand  miles  off,  —  and 
then  we  know  exactly  what  to  think.  And  we  do 
just  the  same  thing  in  the  world  of  mind  as  in  the 
world  of  matter,  though  of  course  the  standard  here 


236  NO  MORE  PAIN. 

is  not  a  material  one.  You  tell  us  that  a  man's  at 
tachment  to  his  principles,  political  or  religious,  is 
very  great.  Well,  give  us  some  idea  how  great. 
What  has  it  led  him  to  do,  what  to  sacrifice,  what  to 
suffer  ?  That  is  the  test  here.  You  tell  us  that  a  man's 
love  for  some  dear  friend  is  deep.  How  deep  ? '  What 
will  it  make  him  do,  or  endure  ?  That  is  the  test. 
And  so,  we  have  a  standard  by  which  to  estimate  the 
redeeming  love  of  Christ.  It  "passeth  knowledge," 
indeed;  we  must  never  forget  that;  its  full  depth 
and  intensity  reach  beyond  our  understanding  ;  but 
this  much  about  it  we  can  understand,  that  it  is  a 
love  stronger  and  deeper  than  the  deepest  and  strong 
est  pain.  It  has  been  tried  by  that  ;  and  it  stood 
the  trial !  How  great  was  the  Saviour's  love  for  us 
poor  sinners,  —  how  deep  His  desire  for  our  salvation 
from  sin  and  perdition,  —  we  never  can  fully  know ; 
but  this  we  know,  that  they  sufficed  to  lead  Him,  with 
calm,  unflinching  resolution,  to  face  and  to  endure  pain 
and  anguish  so  deep  and  crushing  that  never  before 
or  since  has  their  like  been  known  in  this  world. 
Our  Saviour's  love  for  us  was  stronger  than  pain, 
stronger  than  agony,  stronger  than  death !  It  led 
Him,  perfectly  aware  of  what  He  was  about  to  suffer, 
to  suffer  all  these.  Never  was  sorrow  like  His  sor 
row  ;  surely  never  was  love  like  His  love  ! 

Such,  my  hearers,  are  certain  lessons  which  we 
are  taught  by  pain.  But  in  the  better  world,  pain 
will  not  be  needful  to  enforce  them.  They  will  b& 


NO  MORE  PAIN.  237 

remembered  there,  so  far  as  it  is  fit  that  they  should 
be  remembered,  without  the  necessity  of  having  that 
sad  monitor  ever  near.  And  thus,  as  in  that  happy 
country,  pain  would  be  of  no  use,  pain  will  go.  Use 
ful,  gloomily  useful,  in  this  world,  it  would  be  of 
110  use  there.  Its  work  is  done ;  and  like  all  other 
sorrowful  things,  it  shall  be  excluded.  Oh,  the  comfort 
of  the  thought !  Christians,  who  have  suffered  much 
in  this  being,  remember  this,  that  in  Heaven  there 
shall  be  "  no  more  pain."  And  you,  my  friends,  how 
stands  your  interest  in  this  promise  ?  You  have  all 
known  pain  here  ;  you  may  have  much  more  to  go 
through  before  you  quit  this  world ;  how  stand  your 
prospects  for  the  country  beyond  the  grave  ?  There 
is  a  region  there,  where  it  is  all  pain  forever.  Is  there 
one  soul  here  that  will  reject  the  Saviour's  offered 
love,  and  face  that  never-ending  pain  !  Or,  rather, 
when  you  think  of  all  He  bore  for  you;  when  you 
think  of  the  mercy  He  freely  offers ;  when  you  think 
of  God's  solemn  declaration,  that  He  is  "  not  willing 
that  any  should  perish,  but  that  all  should  come  to 
repentance  "  ;  where  would  be  your  hearts  if  you  did 
not  feel  a  responsive  love  to  Him  who  so  loved  you, — 
a  hearty,  humble  faith  and  trust  in  Him  who  bids  you 
only  trust  yourselves  to  Him  ;  and,  sinful  as  you  are, 
lost  as  you  are,  liable  most  justly  to  endless  wrath 
and  punishment  as  you  are,  He  will  bear  you  safely 
through  life  and  death  and  judgment,  to  that  better 
country  where  suffering  is  gone  forever,  and,  better 
yet,  where  sin  is  done  with  forever,  too ! 


238  NO  MORE  PAIN. 

And  now,  as  I  draw  another  Sunday's  sermon 
to  an  end,  I  look  back  once  more  to  my  text ;  I  rest 
in  the  simple  contemplation  of  the  sublime  truth 
which  it  conveys.  "  No  more  pain  ! "  The  parting 
pang  which  the  believer  feels  in  leaving  this  world 
is  the  very  last  that  he  shall  ever  feel  at  all.  The 
suffering  which  he  may  be  called  to  endure  in  the 
closing  days  of  this  mortal  life  is  the  very  last  suffer 
ing  that  he  will  ever  know.  The  moment  in  which 
the  last  breath  is  drawn,  —  in  that  moment,  pain  goes 
forever!  And,  it  may  be  you  have  seen  something 
which  reminded  you  of  that  glorious  truth,  even  in 
the  features  of  the  dead  face.  You  have  seen,  per 
haps,  the  face  that  had  grown  old  in  life  look  young 
after  death.  You  have  seen  the  expression  of  many 
years  since,  lost  for  long,  come  out  startlingly  in  the 
features,  fixed  and  cold.  Every  one  has  seen  it ; 
and  it  is  sometimes  strange  how  rapidly  the  change 
takes  place.  The  marks  of  pain  fade  out,  and  with 
them  the  marks  of  age.  I  lately  saw  an  aged  Chris 
tian  die.  She  had  borne  sharp  pain  for  many  days 
with  the  endurance  of  a  martyr ;  she  had  to  bear 
sharp  pain  to  the  very  last.  The  features  were  tense 
and  rigid  with  suffering  ;  they  remained  so  while  life 
remained.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see  the  change 
which  took  place  in  the  very  instant  of  dissolution. 
The  features,  sharp  for  many  days  with  pain,  in  that 
instant  recovered  the  old  aspect  of  quietude  which 
they  had  borne 'in  health;  the  tense,  tight  look  was 
gone.  You  saw  the  signs  of  pain  go  out.  You  felt 


NO  MORE  PAIN.  239 

that  all  suffering  was  over.  It  was  no  more  of 
course  than  the  working  of  physical  law ;  but  in  that 
case  it  seemed  as  if  there  were  a  further  meaning 
conveyed.  It  was  hardly  possible  to  look  on  the 
features,  so  suffering  the  one  moment,  so  quiet  and 
calm  the  next,  without  remembering  words  which  tell 
us,  concerning  the  country  into  which  the  believer 
enters  in  the  instant  of  his  departure,  that  There 
"  shall  be  no  more  death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying ; 

NEITHER    SHALL    THERE   BE    ANY    MORE    PAIN  I " 


XIV. 


THE   VICTORY    OVER   THE   WORLD. 

"  And  this  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even  our 
tkith."  —  1  JOHN  v.  4. 

HIS  text  implies  and  suggests  two  great 
lessons:  one  of  these  is  that  the  Chris 
tian  has  to  overcome  the  world,  —  that 
there  is  some  sense  in  which  the  world  is 
an  enemy,  an  obstacle,  to  the  Christian,  —  an  obstacle 
which  must  be  got  over,  an  enemy  which  must  be 
overcome ;  and  the  other  lesson  is  that  Faith  is  the 
way  and  the  means  by  which  the  Christian  can  and 
must  overcome  the  world.  And  when  we  look  to  the 
first  clause  of  the  verse,  we  find  a  further  truth 
suggested,  —  to  wit,  that  this  overcoming  the  world 
is  a  thing  of  vital  and  essential  concern,  —  that  it  is 
indeed  a  test  of  a  professing  Christian's  profession,  — 
that,  if  any  professing  Christian  has  not  overcome  the 
world,  but  is  manifestly  in  subjection  and  bondage 
to  it,  this  shows  that  he  is  not  truly  a  Christian.  For 
" whatsoever,"  or  perhaps  it  ought  to  read,  "whoso 
ever  is  born  of  God  overcometh  the  world ;  and  this  is 
the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  even  our  faith." 


THE  VICTORY   OVER  THE   WORLD.  241 

We  do  not  Jive  long  before  we  come  to  understand 
that  it  has  pleased  God  so  to  order  things  in  this  life 
that  no  worthy  end  can  be  attained  without  an  effort, 
—  without  encountering  and  overcoming  opposition. 
Anything  that  costs  nothing  is  generally  worth  noth 
ing.  It  is  dim  ult  to  do  anything  that  is  good;  and 
the  Christian  life  is  in  keeping  witli  all  things  around 
it.  The  school-boy  soon  knows  that  it  is  difficult  to 
be  diligent  and  industrious,  —  it  is  hard  work  to 
learn  his  lessons  thoroughly  and  well,  —  but  it  is 
quite  easy  to  sit  idle  and  do  nothing.  The  farmer 
knows  that  he  must  work  early  and  late  to  get  his 
field  to  produce  a  good  crop,  while  he  has  only  to 
neglect  his  rield  and  do  nothing  to  have  it  covered 
with  abundance  of  weeds.  The  man  who  wishes  to 
do  good,  physical  or  spiritual,  to  his  fellow-men,  finds 
that  that  cannot  be  done  by  sitting  still  in  his  easy- 
chair  and  dreaming ;  he  must  go  forth,  and  go  through 
work,  often  rough  work,  sometimes  painful  and  dis 
couraging  work.  It  is  energetic,  muscular  philanthro 
py  that  purifies  the  cottage  air,  and  tidies  the  cot 
tage-door,  and  trains  the  neglected  children.  And  it 
is  just  in  religion  as  it  is  in  everything  else.  It  is 
difficult  to  be  a  true,  earnest  Christian.  It  is  easy  to 
be  a  careless,  worldly  person.  Wide  is  the  gate,  and 
broad  is  the  way,  that  leads  to  destruction  ;  while  we 
must  strive  —  and  Christ's  word  means  more  than 
strive :  it  means  that  we  must  make  a  strong  arid 
agonizing  effort — to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate; 
16 


242        THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD. 

and  the  path  of  duty,  the  path  to  heaven,  is  an  up-hill 
path.  And  the  text  points  out  one  great  obstacle,  a 
host  of  obstacles  in  itself,  in  the  Christian's  heaven 
ward  way.  The  world  is  in  the  way.  And  if  we 
would  live  the  Christian  life,  if  we  would  reach  the 
Christian's  home,  —  there  is  no  other  course,  —  we 
must  "  overcome  the  world  !  " 

We  are  far  from  saying  that  the  world  is  the  only 
thing  the  Christian  has  to  overcome  in  his  progress 
towards  a  better  world.  There  is  the  great  Adver 
sary  and  Enemy  of  all  good ;  there  is  the  weak  and 
earthward  heart  within ;  but  I  believe  I  am  express 
ing  the  experience  of  most  men  who  are  seeking  to 
lead  Christian  lives  in  these  days  on  which  we  have 
fallen,  when  I  say  that  the  world  is  practically  the 
great  obstacle  to  be  overcome,  —  that  worldliness  is 
the  great  besetting  sin  which  most  of  us  have  to  re 
sist.  The  cares  of  the  world  are  in  truth  the  great 
things  that  choke  the  good  seed  so  that  it  becomes 
unfruitful.  The  great  thing  which  most  of  us  have 
to  lament,  and  confess,  and  strive  against,  is,  being 
so  occupied  and  engrossed  by  our  affairs  in  this  world 
as  quite  to  neglect  our  preparation  for  the  world  be 
yond  the  grave.  Few  Christians,  in  ordinary  society 
and  ordinary  life,  are  tempted  to  gross  and  crying  sins ; 
most  of  us  deserve  no  credit  for  being  free  from  such, 
for  we  have  really  never  been  strongly  tempted  to 
them.  The  great  thing  is  just  that  we  are  worldly  ; 
that  we  live  too  much  as  if  this  life  were  all ;  that 


THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD.  243 

our  minds  are  quite  filled  with  worldly  business, 
worldly  pleasure,  worldly  cares,  anxieties,  sorrows, 
losses ;  that  we  are  more  anxious  about  our  worldly 
circumstances  than  about  our  interest  in  Christ,  — • 
more  careful  of  our  bodily  health  than  of  our  spirit 
ual,  —  more  set,  in  short,  (we  all  know  what  it 
means,)  upon  the  seen  and  temporal  than  upon  the 
unseen  and  eternal.  Now,  my  friends,  not  only  is 
worldliness  a  sin,  but  it  is  a  sin  that  chokes  all  good ; 
it  chokes  and  kills  all  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit,  and 
it  makes  the  soul  as  unfit  for  heaven  as  the  grossest 
crime  could.  It  is  our  besetting  sin ;  it  is  our  most 
perilous  malady ;  it  concerns  us,  with  momentous 
concern,  to  understand  it  and  strive  against  it.  And 
so  let  us,  praying  for  Divine  direction,  look  at  some 
of  the  ways  in  which  the  world  is  an  enemy,  an  ob 
stacle,  a  hindrance  in  our  Christian  course;  and  let 
us  see  how  faith  is  needful  to  overcome  it. 

And,  first,  this  world  is  an  obstacle,  needing  to  be 
overcome,  —  it  exerts,  that  is,  an  influence  which  we 
must  every  day  be  resisting  and  praying  against,  — 
just  in  this :  that  it  looks  so  solid  and  so  real,  that  in 
comparison  with  ii  the  eternal  world  and  its  interests 
look  to  most  men  as  though  they  had  but  a  shadowy 
and  unsubstantial  existence.  And  it  is  a  terrible  ob 
stacle  this,  in  our  Christian  life.  No  doubt  it  is  for  a 
wise  and  good  reason  that  the  Almighty  suffers  it  to 
be  so ;  but  oh,  how  hard  it  is  to  feel,  day  by  day,  that 
things  which  we  cannot  see  or  touch  are  the  most  real 


244  THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD. 

things  in  nature ;  how  hard  it  is  to  feel  that  pardon  of 
sin  and  peace  with  God  are  more  truly  the  "  necessa 
ries  of  life"  than  the  daily  bread  and  the  nightly 
shelter,  —  that  a  saving  interest  in  Christ's  great 
Atonement  is  really  the  "  one  thing  needful !  "  Oh  ! 
it  would  be  well  with  us  if  we  could  only  feel  as  sen 
sibly  that  we  need  salvation  as  that  we  heed  food  and 
raiment !  Oh !  it  would  be  well  for  us  if  we  could 
only  realize  it  as  strongly,  that  there  is  a  country  be 
yond  the  grave,  as  that  there  is  a  country  beyond  the 
Atlantic  !  How  many  great  religious  truths  —  truths 
which  lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  religion  —  we  be 
lieve  in  a  sadly  half-hearted  way,  because  this  solid 
world  looks  like  a  constant  silent  contradiction  of 
them !  The  supreme  importance  of  the  life  to  come 
is  the  doctrine  on  which  all  religion  rests ;  but  though 
we  often  hear  and  repeat  the  words,  that  "  all  on  earth 
is  shadow,  all  beyond  is  substance, "  —  and  although 
sometimes,  perhaps  in  the  house  of  prayer,  we  may 
feel  our  souls  lifted  up  to  an  elevation  from  which  we 
discern  the  fact  with  a  startling  reality  never  known 
on  ordinary  days  of  life, —  still,  when  the  parting  hymn 
is  sung,  and  the  benediction  pronounced,  and  we  pass 
out  through  the  church-door,  and  see  before  us  the 
great  hills,  and  the  ancient  trees,  and  feel  beneath  our 
feet  the.  solid  earth,  and  hear  the  voices  of  people 
round  us,  —  how  fast  this  world  of  sense  grows  and 
greatens  upon  us  again,  —  while  the  unseen  world 
and  all  its  concerns  seem  to  recede  into  distance,  to 


THE  VICTORY   OVER  THE  WORLD.  245 

melt  into  air,  to  fade  into  nothing !  Do  you  not  feel 
all  that,  my  friends  ?  Do  you  not  feel  that  this  world 
shuts  out,  somehow,  the  next  world  from  your  view, 
and  crowds  out  the  next  world  from  your  heart  ?  And 
what  is  there  that  shall  "  overcome  "  this  materializ 
ing  influence  of  a  present  world,  what  is  there  that 
shall  give  us  the  "  victory "  over  it,  but  Faith,  — 
Faith  which  believes  what  it  cannot  see,  with  all  the 
vividness  of  sight  ?  Surely,  by  its  very  nature,  Chris 
tian  faith,  that  faith  which  is  wrought  in  the  believing 
heart  by  the  Blessed  Spirit,  is  the  only  thing  that 
can  avail  us  here.  We  see  and  feel  this  world,  —  we 
believe  the  other ;  we  see  and  feel  the  body  and  bodily 
wants,  —  we  believe  the  soul  and  its  necessities  ;  oh, 
that  by  God's  grace  faith  may  be  made  to  vanquish 
sight, —  it  never  will  vanquish  sight  as  we  might  wish 
it  should,  —  but  at  least  vanquish  sight  and  sense  in 
so  far  as  that  it  shall  be  the  guide  of  our  conduct,  — 
as  that  we  shall  act  according  to  the  dictates  of  faith, 
—  as  that  we  shall  live  and  act  according  to  what 
we  believe,  and  not  according  to  what  we  see  ;  — 
and  thus,  that,  like  the  apostle,  we  shall  "walk  by 
faith  and  not  by  sight !  "  It  is  too  much,  perhaps, 
to  expect  that  the  day  should  ever  come  when,  for 
more  than  short  seasons  of  special  elevation,  wre  shall 
be  able  to  realize  the  unseen  and  eternal  as  plainly  as 
we  do  the  seen  and  temporal ;  we  cannot  look  to  be 
always  so  raised  above  worldly .  interests  as  to  feel 
that  not  what  we  grasp,  but  what  we  believe  is  the 


246  THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD. 

true  reality;  it  will  be  enough  if  we  carry  with  U9 
such  a  conviction  as  shall  constrain  us  to  "  seek  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness  " ;  and  if 
we  ever  do  so,  this  must  be  "  the  victory  which  shall 
overcome  the  world,  even  our  faith." 

So  far,  then,  for  one  respect  in  which  faith  is  need 
ful  to  resist  an  influence  of  the  world,  hostile  to  our 
spiritual  life ;  and  next  we  remark  that  the  world  is 
an  obstacle  in  our  Christian  course,  because  its  cares, 
business,  interests,  tend  strongly  and  directly  to  choke 
the  good  seed  of  religion  in  the  heart,  —  to  fill  up  our 
minds  so  completely  as  that  they  shall  have  no  room 
for  thoughts  of  eternity  and  salvation.  Oh,  how  many 
notable  housewives,  busy  from  morning  till  night  with 
their  household  affairs,  their  children,  their  servants, 
could  tell  us  that  they  scarce  can  find  a  minute  to 
read  the  Bible,  or  to  stop  and  think  where  they  are 
going ;  and  that  at  morning  they  are  so  anxious  to 
get  to  the  avocations  of  the  day,  and  at  evening  so 
completely  wearied  and  worn  out,  that  they  have  not 
time  nor  heart  for  prayer.  How  many  a  toiling, 
anxious  man,  working  and  scheming  to  make  the  ends 
meet,  and  to  maintain  his  children,  and  to  advance 
them  in  life,  has  not  a  thought  to  spare  for  the  other 
world,  for  his  own  soul's  eternal  destiny,  or  for  the 
eternal  destiny  of  those  he  holds  dear  !  It  is  when 
we  are  "  careful  and  troubled  about  many  things " 
that  we  are  ready  to  forget  that  "  one  thing  is  need- 


THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD.  247 

ful."  I  need  not  tell  you  that  in  all  ages  of  the 
Church,  every  man  who  has  earnestly  tried  to  lead 
a  Christian  life,  has  felt,  more,  or  less,  how  great  an 
obstacle  earthly  care  has  ever  been.  You  know  how, 
in  centuries  past,  men  have  tried  to  evade  this  world, 
instead  of  overcoming  it,  —  to  fly  from  the  enemy, 
instead  of  facing  and  vanquishing  it ;  how  they  have 
left  the  world  behind  them,  and  sought  in  the  monas 
tic  shade  a  retreat  to  which  worldly  care  should  never 
come,  —  a  home  where  the  turmoil  and  strife  should 
never  be  heard,  save  softened  by  the  distance  into  a 
murmur  that  would  but  lull  the  ear.  Ah,  it  was  a 
vain  endeavor ;  but  still  it  proved  how  great  an  en 
emy  of  spiritual  life  worldly  care  was  felt  to  be,  — 
when,  only  to  be  rid  of  it,  men  were  found  willing  to 
give  up  almost  everything  that  human  hearts  hold 
dear !  How.  many  a  time  have  you  knelt  down  in 
your  closet  to  say  your  evening  prayer,  and  in  a  lit 
tle  while  found  that  some  worldly  anxiety  or  trouble 
was  coming  between  you  and  your  God,  that  your 
thoughts  were  wandering  away  upon  your  earthly 
cares,  and  would  not  leave  you  undistracted  even  for 
the  little  time  given  to  devotion  !  How  often,  in  the 
house  of  prayer,  the  words  of  exhortation  fell  effect 
less  and  unnoted  on  your  ear,  because  your  thoughts 
were  away  about  the  cares  you  had  left  at  home,  — • 
about  how  you  were  to  find  the  money  which  you 
must  have  by  a  certain  day,  or  about  the  pale  cheek 
and  the  failing  strength  of  your  little  sickly  child  J 


248  THE  VICTORY   OVER   THE   WORLD. 

Oh,  how  shall  we  overcome  these  things,  my  Christian 
friends  ?  How  shall  we  keep  these  worldly  cares 
which  we  cannot  escape,  from  making  our  souls  ut 
terly  worldly  ?  How  can  it  be  brought  to  this,  that  the 
nian  in  business  may  give  to  his  business  just  thought 
enough,  and  no  more,  —  that  the  parent  may  not  let 
his  children's  welfare  come  between  him  and  his  sal 
vation, —  that  "care's  unthankful  gloom"  may  not  nip 
all  holy  affections  and  aspirations,  and  make  us  worn, 
miserable,  anxious  creatures,  wretched  in  time,  but  not 
able  to  spare  a  thought  for  eternity  ?  Only  the  "  faith 
that  overcometh  the  world  "  can  save  from  this.  Only 
that  childlike  confidence  hi  our  Saviour's  love  and 
wisdom  and  power,  which  trusts  everything  to  Him, 
—  which  "  casts  all  our  care  upon  Him "  and  His 
strong  arm,  —  and  so  feels  the  crushing  burden  lifted 
from  our  own  weak  hearts !  "  This  is  the  victory 
that  overcometh "  —  the  only  thing  that  ever  can 
overcome  —  "  the  world  :  even  our  faith  !  "  What 
we  need,  to  overcome  worldly  care,  is  that  faith  which 
lifts  its  head  above  the  atmosphere  of  time  into  eter 
nity's  clearer  light !  What  we  need  is  faith  to  real 
ize  how  short  this  life  is  when  compared  with  the 
great  eternity,  how  little  and  how  fleeting  are  all 
worldly  interests,  all  earthly  gains  and  losses,  when 
compared  with  the  pearJ  of  great  price,  an  assured 
part  in  Christ's  great  salvation.  What  we  need  is 
faith  to  realize  that  no  earthly  end  or  aim  should  be 
regarded  as  our  "  chief  end,"  and  that  every  earthly 


THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD.  249 

thing  has  yielded  us  the  best  it  can  give  when  it 
has  wrought  together  towards  our  immortal  welfare  ! 
What  we  need  is  faith  to  feel  that  the-  true  riches  lie 
not  in  broad  acres  nor  in  hoarded  wealth,  from  which 
a  week's  illness  or  a  moment's  shock  may  part  us  for 
ever, —  but  in  that  nobler  estate  which  is  garnered 
up  within  the  soul,  —  those  "  treasures  laid  up  in 
heaven,  which  neither  moth  nor  rust  can  corrupt,  and 
which  no  thief  can  break  through  and  steal ! "  Give 
us  that  faith,  and  we  have  "  overcome  the  world  " ;  it 
is  our  tyrant,  and  we  are  its  slaves,  no  more  !  Give 
us  that  faith,  not  for  isolated  moments  of  rapture  only, 
but  to  be  the  daily  mood  and  temper  of  our  hearts  ; 
and  then  we  shall  engage  without  fever  in  the  busi 
ness  of  this  world,  as  feeling  that  in  a  few  short  years 
it  will  matter  nothing  whether  we  met  disappointment 
or  success  ;  then  we  shall  seek  for  wealth,  if  we  seek 
at  all,"  as  those  who  remember  that  in  a  very  little  we 
are  going  where  we  shall  never  be  asked  whether  wre 
were  rich  or  poor ;  then  we  shall  feel  that,  once  safe 
in  Christ,  nothing  can  go  amiss  with  us,  —  that  God 
has  undertaken  for  us,  —  and  that  it  is  His  concern 
and  not  ours  to  arrange  and  dispose  all  the  events 
of  our  worldly  lot.  Arid  shall  we  not  thus  "  over 
come  the  world,"  break  away  from  its  thousand  ties, 
cast  off  its  downward  gravitation,  break  away  from 
its  control,  free  and  untrammelled,  as  the  lion  that 
bounds  scatheless  from  the  hunter's  net !  Be  it  our 
prayer,  then,  when  we  think  how  soul-destroying  a 


250  THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD. 

thing  worldly  care  is  in  its  own  nature,  that  God,  of 
His  abundant  grace,  may  vouchsafe  to  each  and  all 
of  us  "  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world,  —  even 
stick  faith  ! " 

It  is  too  much  to  ask  of  frail  human  beings,  merely 
to  remove  their  affections  from  the  things  of  time  and 
sense.  It  will  not  do,  merely  to  tell  us  that  we  are 
not  to  "  love  this  world,"  unless  you  point  out  to  us 
what  we  are  to  love  instead.  We  cannot  turn  away 
from  this  world,  evil  though  itlbe ;  when  we  turn  our 
back  upon  it,  we  see  but  a  blank  before  us.  And 
here  it  is  that  all  systems  but  Christianity  have  failed, 
when  they  sought  to  teach  men  how  they  might  rise 
superior  to  worldly  concerns,  and  thus  "  overcome  the 
world."  It  was  easy  to* show  that  the  things  which 
are  seen  can  never  make  us  happy,  easy  to  repeat 
the  moral  lesson  that  it  was  foolish  to  give  the  heart 
to  what  can  stand  us  in  so  little  stead;  but  it  was 
useless  to  advise  man  to  set  his  affection  and  lay  up 
his  treasure  nowhere ;  and  it  is  faith  only  which  can 
apprehend  and  lay  hold  of  the  things  which  are  not 
seen.  It  is  the  faith  which  holds  in  view  another 
world,  which  alone  can  overcome  this,  —  can  overlook 
it  as  the  eye,  that  rests  on  mountains  far  away,  over 
looks  the  fields  that  lie  between.  The  soul  that  is 
accustomed  to  gaze  on  spiritual  and  eternal  things 
sees  earthly  objects  in  their  real  insignificance;  and 
to  see  this  world  as  it  truly  is,  is  to  overcome  it.  It 
is  like  the  embodied  demons  of  classic  fable,  who  fled 


THE  VICTORY   OVER   THE 

\?>_*  .Cfc 
if  you  did  but  recognize  and  name 

this  world  —  as  faith  alone  estimates  it  —  at  its  true 
worth,   and   in    that   act    you   have    "  overcome    th'er~- 
worldl" 

There  is  yet  another  sense  in  which  the  world  is  an 
obstacle  to  our  Christian  life,  needing  to  be  overcome 
by  faith.  As  you  know,  the  phrase  the  World  is 
sometimes  used  in  contrast  with  the  Church:  so  our 
Saviour  used  it  all  through  his  Intercessory  Prayer ; 
as  when  He  said  of  His  disciples,  "  They  are  not  of 
the  world,  even  as  I  am  not  of  the  world."  Taken 
in  this  way,  the  World  means  all  human  beings  who 
are  without  the  Christian  fold,  —  who  are  devoid  of 
Christian  faith,  and  of  Christian  ways  of  thinking  and 
feeling.  And  you  know  well  that  on  the  most  impor 
tant  subjects  there  is  an  absolute  contrariety  between 
the  doctrines  of  the  church  and  of  the  world;  and 
many  a  believer  has  found  the  world's  frown  or  the 
world's  sneer  something  which  it  needs  much  faith  to 
resist  and  to  overcome.  Perhaps  in  the  case  of  most 
of  us,  living  among  those  who  make  a  profession  of 
Christianity,  or  who  at  least  respectfully  recognize  it, 
this  opposition  is  but  little  felt ;  and  probably  in  the 
case  of  hardly  any  is  it  such  as  in  past  days  it  has 
been.  Yet  it  is  felt  still,  by  the  poor  school-boy,  sent 
out  from  a  pious  home  into  that  stormy  little  world, 
who  is  afraid  to  say  his  prayers  lest  his  companions 
should  laugh  at  him  ;  and  by  the  poor  servant,  admit- 


252  THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD. 

ted  to  some  great  establishment,  who  is  just  as  much 
afraid  as  her  betters  of  the  jeer  of  some  flippant  fool, 
who  thinks  all  seriousness  hypocrisy ;  and  by  many 
a  youth,  sent  into  circles  and  professions,  where  any 
thing  like  earnestness  for  his  soul's  salvation  would  be 
met  by  banter  and  ridicule,  or  by  the  stare  of  well- 
bred  contempt.  It  is  not  everywhere  and  at  all  times 
easy  to  say  practically,  "I  am  not  ashamed  of  the 
gospel  of  Christ."  There  are  many  professing  Chris 
tians  who  at  some  tables  and  in  some  societies  sink 
their  Christianity  for  the  time.  But  how  this  oppo 
sition  crumbles  down  in  the  presence  of  earnest  faith ! 
How  easily  that  faith,  which  realizes  things  spiritual 
and  unseen,  overcomes  and  puts  down  this  hostile 
influence  of  the  world !  How  cheaply  and  lightly 
will  that  man  hold  ridicule  and  mockery  of  him  and 
his  religion,  who  realizes  to  his  heart  that  the  All-wise 
and  Almighty  God  thinks  upon  that  subject  as  he 
does ;  who  realizes  that  God  approves  the  course  he 
follows,  whether  man  does  or  no ;  and  who  can  feel 
that  even  as  the  brainless  scoffer  is  raising  the  laugh 
at  his  expense,  and  the  empty  circle  joins  in  the 
derision,  a  silent  Eye  looks  down  approvingly  upon 
what  he  does,  and  a  pen  which  the  by-standers  do  not 
see  is  registering  the  "  well  done,  good  and  faithful 
servant ! "  Ah,  make  that  be  realized  by  earnest 
faith,  and  the  bonds  of  this  world's  fear  turn  to  the 
strong  heart  as  the  green  withes  were  to  Samson's 
nervous  arms  ! 


THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD.  253 

In  these  senses,  then,  which  have  been  pointed  out, 
the  World  is  an  obstacle  in  the  Christian's  way, — 
an  obstacle  which  he  must  resist  and  overcome.  Its 
solid,  sensible  reality  makes  spiritual  things  look  in 
the  comparison  shadowy  and  unreal.  Its  cares  and 
anxieties  choke  the  word,  —  engross  the  soul  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  thought  of  religion.  Its  maxims  and 
its  fear,  "  the  world's  dread  laugh,"  tend  sometimes  to 
make  the  disciple  of  Christ  ashamed  of  his  Christian 
profession  and  his  Divine  Master.  And  over  all  these 
hostile  influences  faith  gives  us  the  victory ;  and  noth 
ing  but  faith  can.  You  may  tell  me,  indeed,  that 
there  have  been  men  who  had  no  Christian  faith,  and 
who  made  no  pretence  of  it,  who  yet  have  appeared 
wonderfully  dead  to  this  world's  power,  and  who  sat 
very  loosely  to  the  things  of  time  and  sense.  And  if 
it  were  to  "  overcome  the  world,"  merely  to  turn 
away  from  it  in  disgust,  —  if  he  can  be  said  to  have 
"  overcome  the  world  "  who  has  broken  away  from  all 
the  ties  by  which  it  maintains  its  hold  on  human 
hearts,  who  has  grown  "  weary  of  the  sun,"  and 
sick  of  all  ambition,  who  flies  the  society  of  his  race, 
and  scorns  its  opinions,  —  then  indeed  it  would  be 
hard  to  show  that  Christian  faith  in  the  heart  is  the 
only  thing  that  can  "  overcome  the  world."  Rather 
in  that  case  we  might  say,  that  "  This  is  the  victory 
that  overcometh  the  world,  even  "  —  disappointed  am 
bition,  blighted  affection,  shattered  nerves,  frustrated 
anticipations  and  hopes.  Rather  in  that  case  should 


234  THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD. 

we  point  to  the  sated  voluptuary,  the  betrayed  politi 
cian,  the  solitary  misanthrope,  than  to  the  Christian, 
genial,  kind,  and  true.  Rather  in  that  case  should 
we  have  to  seek  the  hero,  victorious  over  time  and 
sense,  where  the  lonely  waves  made  sad  music  round 
the  cynic  man-hater's  dwelling,  or  where  the  poet's 
genius  has  shown  us  the  desolate  wanderer,  wearied 
of  all  he  felt,  or  heard,  or  saw.  But  that,  my  breth 
ren,  is  not  conquering  the  world  :  it  is  succumbing  to 
the-  world  ;  it  is  letting  the  world  conquer  us  !  It  is 
not  to  overcome  the  world,  merely  to  take  the  pet  at 
it,  like  a  spoiled  child,  because  it  will  not  let  us  have 
our  own  way.  In  all  these  cases  the  moody  dejec 
tion  which  marks  him  who  has  thus  turned  his  back 
upon  the  world,  testifies  that  the  world  has  still  its 
hold  upon  his  heart,  and  that,  if  the  present  cloud 
were  but  removed,  if  times  of  prosperity  came  back, 
he  would  return  to  earthly  pursuits  and  follies  with 
as  keen  a  relish  as  ever.  We  look  with  suspicion 
upon  him  who  professes  that  he  has  renounced  the 
world,  just  when  the  world  has  renounced  him;  who 
lays  down  the  empty  cup,  and  says  the  draught  is 
bitter;  who  declares  that  the  objects  of  earthly 
ambition  are  vanity,  —  but  not  till  he  has  found 
that  they  lie  beyond  his  reach.  No  doubt,  sorrows 
and  disappointments  are  sometimes  the  sharp  dis 
cipline  by  which  God  weans  His  children's  hearts 
from  worldly  things ;  no  doubt  the  path  of  tribulation 
sometimes  serves  to  quicken  our  steps  towards  the 


THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD.  255 

kingdom  of  God ;  no  doubt  experience  of  the  insuffi 
ciency  of  earthly  things  to  make  us  happy  oftentimes 
tends  to  turn  us  to  that  Blessed  Saviour  who  alone 
can  give  peace  and  rest  to  our  weary  souls  ;  and  in 
this  way  all  worldly  troubles  may  be  used  by  the 
Holy  Spirit  as  means  for  working  in  us  that  faith 
which  overcomes  the  world.  But  it  is  not  mere 
sorrow  that  overcomes  the  world ;  nor  is  it  sorrow 
left  to  its  own  natural  results.  Sorrow  by  itself  tends 
merely  to  crush  us  down  ;  it  brings  us  to  the  earth, 
rather  than  raises  us  above  it.  It  was  natural  in  Job, 
in  his  time  of  great  desolation,  to  "fall  down  upon 
the  ground  " ;  but  faith  takes  the  further  step,  and 
raises  the  affections  from  things  on  earth  to  things  in 
heaven.  Sorrow  is  in  itself  an  idle  thing ;  it  leaves 
us  no  heart  to  do  anything ;  yet  God's  Spirit,  from 
that  unpromising  source,  sometimes  draws  forth  that 
energetic  faith,  which  "  purifieth  the  heart,  and  work- 
eth  by  love,  and  overcometh  the  world."  And  then, 
after  the  sorrow  is  gone,  its  happy  results  remain ; 
the  Saviour,  whose  preciousness  was  found  in  the 
night  of  weeping,  is  still  found  precious  when  the 
night  has  passed  away  ;  the  lesson  learned  under  the 
heavy  discipline  of  sorrow  is  remembered  and  acted 
upon  when  happier  days  return  ;  and  the  soul,  eman 
cipated  from  the  trammels  of  the  world,  acknowledges 
how  good  it  was  to  be  thus  afflicted.  A  saving  and 
permanent  change,  visible  in  the  whole  life,  is  some 
times  left  by  the  season  of  tribulation ;  and  then,  in- 


256  THE  VICTORY  OVER  THE  WORLD. 

deed,  the  world  has  been  overcome,  when  a  calm  res 
ignation  to  all  the  appointments  of  God's  good  will  — 
a  resignation  which  is  calm  but  not  apathetic  —  has 
taken  the  place  of  that  feverish  anxiety  about  worldly 
things  to  which  we  are  all  so  prone.  And  so  the 
parent,  who  has  lost  his  beloved  child,  has  sometimes 
been  able  to  testify  that  a  blessed  lesson  was  taught 
him  by  that  little  grave ;  that  the  removal  of  that 
dear  one  reminded  him  sharply  of  what  he  was  forget 
ting,  that  this  is  not  our  rest  or  our  home  ;  and  made 
one  tie  more  to  that  happy  place  where  there  is  no 
sin  nor  sorrow. 

And  now,  as  a  practical  conclusion  to  my  discourse, 
let  me  ask  each  of  you  whether  you  have  overcome 
the  world.  "  Whatsoever  is  born  of  God  overcometh 
the  world."  It  is  a  searching  test  this ;  for  it  means 
that  he  who  has  not  overcome  the  world  has  not  been 
born  of  God.  It  means,  that  if  a  man  be  entirely 
worldly  in  heart  and  life,  he  can  be  no  believer. 
How  is  it  with  us,  then  ?  Do  we  feel  most  interest  in 
the  things  of  time  and  sense  ?  Do  we  give  more  time 
and  thought  to  our  worldly  work,  or  to  the  great 
employment  of  working  out  our  salvation  ?  Are  we 
more  anxious  to  be  holy,  humble  disciples  of  Jesus, 
than  to  get  comfortably  on  through  life  ?  Ah,  breth 
ren,  answer  these  questions  to  yourselves ;  these  are 
matters  which  lie  between  you  and  God.  He  knows 
what  your  answer  should  be  ! 


THE  VICTORY   OVER  THE  WORLD.  257 

"We  read  in  history,  my  friends,  —  what  school-boy 
has  not  heard  of  it  ?  —  of  one  in  departed  days,  who 
fancied  that  he  had  accomplished  that  hard  task 
which  the  Apostle  John  tells  us  can  be  accomplished 
only  by  him  who  hath  been  born  of  God.  We  read 
how  he~ carried  his  victorious  arms  over  every  region 
of  the  then  known  earth ;  how  he  subjugated  king 
after  king,  and  brought  nation  after  nation  beneath  his 
sway ;  and  then  fancied  that  he  had  "  overcome  the 
world!"  We  read  how  he  felt  it  sad  to  think  that 
his  heroic  task  was  done,  and  how  he  wept  that  there 
were  no  more  worlds  to  conquer.  Oh,  far  astray,  far 
mistaken  !  There  was  one  world  to  conquer  yet,  to 
which  that  conqueror  was  a  slave ;  a  world  to  over 
come  which  the  arms  of  Alexander* were  of  no  avail ; 
a  world  that  can  enslave  the  man  who  fancies  he  has 
conquered  it,  —  can  bind  his  soul  in  fetters,  and  hold 
in  captivity  every  feeling  and  thought.  And  that 
world  there  is  but  one  thing  which  can  conquer. 
Quietly  fought,  and  fought  year  after  year,  this  battle 
is  fought  and  won  in  the  humble  believer's  heart : 
"  and  this  is  the  victory  that  overcometh  the  world, 
even  our  faith !  " 


17 


XV. 


THE  LIMITS   OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

'*  There  hath  no  temptation  taken  you  but  such  as  is  common  to 
man."  —  1  COR.  x.  13. 

VERY  great  number  of  people  firmly 
believe  that  there  never  were  in  this 
world  such  people  as  themselves,  and 
that  nobody  ever  did  what  they  have 
done,  or  came  through  what  they  have  come  through. 
There  is  in  almost  every  human  being,  and  in  none 
more  decidedly  than  the  most  commonplace,  a  lurking 
belief  that  there  never  was  such  a  being  as  himself. 
You  will  find  this  especially  in  the  narrower  and  less 
cultivated  minds ;  and  in  them  it  often  appears  in 
forms  which  are  irritating  and  ridiculous.  You  will 
find  folk  who  really  believe  that  they  themselves,  and 
all  their  belongings,  are  much  better  than  other  folk, 
and  their  belongings;  that  there  never  were  such 
children  as  theirs ;  that  there  never  were  such  flowers 
and  vegetables  as  theirs ;  that  there  never  were  such 
toils  as  theirs;  and  even  (for  there  is  no  reckoning 
the  odd  ways  in  which  human  vanity  will  gratify 
itself)  that  there  never  were  such  headaches  and  such 


THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.         259 

worries  as  theirs.  All  this  comes  of  a  morbid  self- 
conceit.  It  is  just  the  person  who  is  below  the  aver 
age  of  the  race,  who  will  fancy  that  he  stands  above 
all  his  fellow-creatures.  And  all  this  goes  rather  to 
constitute  one  of  those  weaknesses  which  should  be 
touched  by  the  moralist,  than  to  rank  among  those 
graver  matters  of  doctrine  and  practice  which  are  to 
be  specially  thought  of  in  the  house  of  prayer. 

But  there  is  a  particular  manifestation  of  the  same 
tendency  in  fallen  human  nature,  against  which  an 
apostle  thought  it  worth  while  solemnly  to  caution  his 
friends  in  an  epistle  inspired  by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
which  well  deserves  the  most  earnest  consideration 
which  can  be  given  it  upon  this  day  and  in  this  place. 
This  tendency  in  each  human  soul  to  single  itself  out 
from  the  mass  of  mankind  does  not  always  appear  in 
those  self-conceited  and  unamiable  forms  to  which  we 
have  alluded.  It  sometimes  manifests  itself  in  forms 
of  feeling  and  belief  which  deserve  our  heartiest  sym 
pathy  ;  it  often  prompts  human  beings  to  write  hard 
things  against  themselves,  and  to  esteem  themselves 
as  parted  from  others,  not  by  being  better,  but  by 
being  worse.  Every  minister  often  meets  with  people 
who,  having  been  deeply  convinced  of  their  sinfulness, 
and  of  their  lost  estate  by  nature,  run  into  an  ex 
treme  which  for  the  time  threatens  to  drive  them  to 
despair.  They  fancy  that  there  never  were  such  sin 
ners  as  they  are ;  that  they  have  sinned  beyond  hope ; 
that  not  even  Christ's  blood  can  wash  away  such  sins 


260         THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

as  theirs ;  that  there  never  were  such  evil  thoughts  as 
have  passed  through  their  hearts ;  that  there  never 
were  transgressions  so  aggravated  and  so  black  as 
theirs;  that  all  the  gracious  words  of  Scripture  you 
can  remind  them  of  apply  to  other  people,  but  not  to 
them  ;  that  you  may  just  leave  them  alone,  as  past  all 
redemption.  Then  you  will  find  others  who  have  got 
past  this  mournful  and  distressing  stage,  who  have 
been  brought  to  commit  their  souls  to  Christ,  and  who 
have  found  some  little  measure  of  hope  and  peace, 
but  who  seem  likely  to  be  desponding  pilgrims  to  the 
end.  They  ivill  have  it  that  there  never  were  believ 
ers  so  weak  as  they  are ;  never  Christians  with  so 
little  heart  for  duty ;  never  Christians  so  little  equal 
to  face  the  toils,  perils,  temptations  of  the  way ;  and 
never  such  temptations,  toils,  and  perils  as  those 
which  they  must  pass  through.  And  in  such  cases  as 
those  I  have  been  describing  there  is  nothing  of  that 
silly  vanity  which  has  been  spoken  of;  instead  of 
being  vain  of  being  different  from  others,  the  fancied 
preeminence  in  sin  and  sorrow  is  a  cause  of  deep  and 
unaffected  anguish;  and  such  poor  souls  would  be 
thankful  if  you  could  but  assure  and  convince  them 
that  they  fare  no  worse  than  millions  have  fared  be 
fore  them,  that  they  share  just  the  common  lot  of  the 
race.  It  was  to  such  people  as  these  that  St.  Paul 
wrote  the  words  of  the  text.  They  were  pressed  by 
many  temptations,  these  Christians  of  Corinth ;  and 
forasmuch  as  human  nature  is  in  its  essence  always 


THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.          261 

the  same,  we  may  well  believe  that  they  were  some 
times  ready  to  despair,  and  to  fancy  that  never  were 
believers  pressed  so  hard.  And  so  St.  Paul  assures 
them,  in  words  which  would  doubtless  be  felt  as  af 
fording  strong  consolation,  that  it  was  to  them  just  as 
it  had  been  to  others.  •  He  says :  "  There  hath  no 
temptation  taken  you,  but  such  as  is  common  to  man." 
The  Apostle,  you  see,  speaks  of  Temptation ;  but 
without  the  least  straining,  we  may  understand  the 
text  as  reaching  to  much  more  than  that.  It  is  not 
temptation  alone  which  we  share  with  our  race ;  but 
cares,  sorrows,  and  bereavements  too;  in  short,  all 
that  makes  the  common  lot  of  human-kind.  We  fancy, 
when  painful  trials  come  to  ourselves,  that  things  so 
painful  were  never  felt  before  ;  we  feel  trial  so  sharply 
when  it  touches  ourselves ;  we  cannot  help  its  being 
so.  But  our  text  reminds  us  that  there  is  a  limit 
within  which  all  human  experience  lies.  Human 
ability,  and  human  endurance ;  what  man  can  do,  and 
what  man  can  suffer:  all  these  things  have  their  teth 
er,  and  cannot  range  very  far.  Here  is  a  lesion  of 
humility  for  the  self-conceited,  who  fancy  that  there 
never  were  people*  so  clever  or  so  wise  or  so  laborious 
as  themselves  ;  let  them  remember  that  thousands 
more  have  been  at  least  as  good.  Here  is  comfort 
for  those  bowed  down  under  the  sense  of  sinfulness, 
and  thinking  that  the  human  being  never  breathed 
who  had  so  provoked  God's  wrath  and  so  wearied 
God's  forbearance ;  thousands  are  now  in  heaven  who 


262         THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

once  thought  all  that,  and  who  have  sinned  as  deeply 
as  they.  Here  is  encouragement  for  the  tempted, 
ready  to  faint  and  fail ;  thousands  more  have  felt  the 
like,  and  by  God's  grace  have  been  led  safely  through 
it.  There  is  nothing  in  our  powers,  our  circum 
stances,  our  sufferings,  our  merits,  our  sins,  our  temp 
tations,  but  what  lies  within  the  reach  of  human  experi 
ence  ;  we  are  but  treading  the  track  which  wiser  and 
better  men  have  trodden  before  us.  "  There  hath 
nothing  befallen  us,  but  such  as  is  common  to  man  ! " 
So  you  see,  my  friends,  that  the  thought  suggested 
in  the  text  may  be  useful  as  a  medicine  for  two  spirit 
ual  diseases  most  opposite  to  one  another  in  nature. 
You  know  that  the  two  opposite  errors  to  which  be 
lievers  are  tempted,  as  regards  mood  and  feeling,  are 
Presumption  and  Despair.  We  may  think  of  our 
selves  too  highly ;  we  may  judge  ourselves  too  safe ; 
we  may  fancy  that  we  are  quite  equal  to  all  the  duty 
and  the  temptation  that  can  come  our  way.  That  is 
the  error  upon  one  hand :  that  is  presumption.  And 
the  vain  self-conceit  which  prompts  to  it  meets  its 
rebuke  in  the  assurance  that  we  are  no  whit  wiser,  or 
better,  or  safer,  than  o'her  men;  and  as  we  all  know 
how  other  men  have  failed  and  fallen,  we  may  well 
stand  in  fear  lest  we  should  do  the  like,  and  we  may 
well  feel  our  simple  dependence  upon  grace  from 
above,  and  seek  it  and  look  for  it  earnestly  and  daily. 
But  the  pendulum  swings  as  far  to  the  left  as  it  had 
previously  swung  to  the  right;  and  as  presumption 


THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.          263 

lies  at  the  extremity  on  one  side,  so  despair  lies  at  the 
extremity  on  the  other ;  and  although  downhearted 
and  desponding  believers  are  oftentimes  so  almost 
ceaselessly,  still  we  all  know,  too,  that  believers  some 
times  pass  all  of  a  sudden  from  the  one  extreme  to 
the  other ;  and  you  will  find  people  who  within  a  few 
days  or  hours  will  pass  through  the  most  diverse  and 
inconsistent  spiritual  moods :  at  one  time  fancying 
that  their  sins  are  beyond  those  of  all  other  sinners, 
and  at  another  that  their  attainments  are  above  those 
of  almost  all  other  believers.  Now  we  know,  that, 
though  God  disapproves  Presumption,  he  also  disap 
proves  its  opposite,  Despair ;  and  the  distrust  of  God, 
and  the  exaggerated  sense  of  our  own  sinfulness  and 
weakness,  which  lead  to  Despair,  find  their  remedy  in 
the  self-same  text  which  rebuked  Presumption,  —  in 
the  assurance  that,  great  as  is  our  guilt,  the  blood  of 
Christ  has  washed  white  souls  as  guilty ;  that,  great  as 
is  our  weakness,  Christians  as  weak  have  been  en 
abled  by  God's  Spirit  to  tread  to  the  end  a  path  as 
rough  and  steep  as  ours  can  be ;  and  that,  manifold  as 
are  our  temptations,  they  are  no  unexampled  tempta 
tions,  —  that  others  have  felt  them  all,  —  that  "  there 
hath  no  temptation  taken  us,  but  such  as  is  common  to 
man." 

My  friends,  it  is  to  the  comforting  view  of  the  text, 
and  not  to  the  humbling  one,  that  I  wish  at  this  time 
to  direct  your  thoughts.  It  was  as  comfort  that  St. 
Paul  addressed  this  text  to  the  Corinthians.  He  did 


264         THE  LIMITS   OF   HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

not  mean  to  take  them  clown  by  it,  but  .to  encourage 
them.  They  had  not  reached  that  morbid  stage,  that 
they  were  proud  of  their  troubles,  and  given  to  boast 
about  them.  The  text  is  addressed  to  such  as  feel 
their  troubles  and  temptations  far  too  deeply,  and  really 
for  that.  And  let  us,  this  day,  for  our  own  comfort 
and  encouragement  in  our  pilgrimage  course,  dwell  for 
a  little  upon  the  a-surance  in  the  text,  regarded  in  its 
comforting  aspect.  Doubtless  there  are  in  this  con 
gregation  some  who  need  all  the  comfort  the  text  can 
yield ;  and  let  us  humbly  ask  that  the  Blessed  Spirit 
would  convey  its  strong  consolation  to  their  hearts. 

And  the  first  case  which  suggests  itself  as  one  in 
which  the  text  may  afford  comfort,  is,  when  the  soul 
is  brought  under  the  deep  conviction  of  sin.  You 
know,  my  friends,  that,  if  you  wish  to  persuade  a  sick 
man  to  send  for  the  physician,  the  first  thing  you 
must  do  is  to  convince  him  that  he  is  sick.  It  is  just 
an  application  of  that  principle  of  plain  common  sense, 
that,  in  order  to  get  a  man  to  take  pains  to  get 
anything,  you  must  get  him  to  see  that  he  needs  it, 
and  that  he  cannot  do  without  it.  Now,  Christianity, 
in  all  that  part  of  it  which  human  minds  can  under 
stand,  is  essentially  a  common-sense  scheme.  And 
the  Holy  Spirit,  in  leading  men  to  believe  in  Christ, 
acts  upon  plain  principles,  which  we  can  all  see  to  be 
the  right  ones.  The  Holy  Spirit  begins  His  saving 
work  upon  a  careless  human  soul :  see  how  He  works. 
He  wishes  to  lead  the  careless  soul  to  the  Great  Phy- 


THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.         265 

sieian  of  souls ;  He  begins,  accordingly,  by  showing 
the  careless  soul  how  sick  it  is.  He  wishes  to  lead 
the  man  to  labor  and  strive  to  find  pardon  and  peace 
with  God ;  He  wishes  Xis  to  go  to  the  Saviour  of  sin 
ners  ;  He  begins  by  convincing  us  that  we  are  sin 
ners,  and  so  that  we  need  a  Saviour.  Now,  there  is 
no  doubt  there  is  something  very  startling  in  the  first 
deep  conviction  that  we  are  sinners.  It  is  so  new. 
It  is  something  quite  strange.  It  is  a  conviction  quite 
different  from  that  which  we  entertained  before.  For 
the  natural  thing  is,  to  think  that  wre  are  not  very 
great  sinners,  that  we  have  never  done  very  many 
sins,  and  that  those  which  we  have  done  are  not  so 
very  bad.  And  when  God's  Spirit  convinces  us  of 
sin,  —  makes  us  really  feel  the  sober  truth  of  the  con 
fession  of  sin  which  we  utter  in  our  prayers  without 
at  all  meaning  them,  —  makes  us  really  discern  the 
tremendous  risk  in  which  we  stand  of  that  fearful 
doom  whose  mention  is  so  often  the  profane  man's 
jest,  —  then  the  soul  is  sometimes  ready  to  run  from 
the  one  extreme,  of  Presumption,  to  the  other  ex 
treme,  of  Despair,  and  to  pass  from  an  easy-going 
indifference  as  to  its  salvation  to  an  anxiety  so  urgent 
and  terrible  as  has  sometimes  threatened  to  overthrow 
reason  itself.  And,  doubtless,  this  is  a  sad  and  dark 
stage  to  pass  through  ;  if  there  be  any  within  these 
walls  now  passing  through  it,  to  such  we  would  say, 
dark  and  sad  as  it  is,  it  is  far  better  than  the  reckless 
indifference  which  went  before  it :  Be  thankful  that 


266         THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

you  are  unhappy ;  the  Holy  Spirit  has  not  left  you  ; 
He  is  making  you  feel  that  you  are  under  the  disease ; 
and  never  fear  but  He  will  by  and  by  lead  you  to  the 
remedy  for  it.  The  truly  hopeless  symptom  in  the 
case  of  the  unconverted  man,  is,  when  he  knows  he  is 
unconverted,  and  does  not  care  at  all.  But,  brethren, 
one  of  the  most  common  feelings  of  the  soul  awakened 
to  a  sense  of  sin,  is,  that  there  never  was  sin  like  its 
own.  From  fancying  that  he  is  hardly  a  sinner  at  all, 
the  man  goes  to  the  other  extreme,  and  fancies  that 
there  never  was  such  a  sinner  in  the  world.  It  is  not 
in  every  case  that  this  is  so  ;  but  assuredly  it  is  so  in 
a  very  great  number  of  cases.  And  deep  as  is  the 
soul's  distress  in  that  sad  time,  deep  as  is  its  sense  of 
sinfulness,  it  would  be  unspeakable  comfort  if  you 
could  only  persuade  it  that  other  men  have  felt  the 
like,  and  that  others  have  had  the  self-same  crushing 
conviction  of  sin.  No  doubt,  the  feeling  is  a  morbid 
one  which  prompts  any  one  to  say :  "  I  have  sinned  as 
no  other  ever  sinned ;  I  fear  I  am  beyond  hope,  so 
aggravated  has  been  my  guilt ;  all  that  you  can  say 
of  God's  mercy  and  the  Redeemer's  blood  may  give 
comfort  to  others,. but  not  to  me."  The  feeling  that 
prompts  such  words  is  a  morbid  one,  indeed ;  but  it  is 
a  common  one  :  it  is  just  a  manifestation  of  the  great 
fact  in  our  nature,  that  what  touches  ourselves  comes 
home  to  us  as  nothing  else  can  ;  and  you  will  find 
people,  sharp  enough  at  discerning  the  folly  of  such  a 
feeling  in  the  case  of  others,  who,  when  the  Spirit 


THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.         267 

brings  sin  home  to  themselves,  evince  it  all.  Now,  it 
may  be  difficult  to  explain  why,  but  it  is  quite  certain 
that  there  is  something  reassuring  and  comforting  in 
being  really  made  to  believe  that  we  are  no  worse  off 
than  others,  —  in  being  really  made  to  feel  that  all  this 
trouble  we  are  passing  through  is  nothing  untried  and 
unprecedented,  —  that  we  are  journeying  along  no  un 
trodden  way,  but  along  a  path  beaten  by  the  feet  of 
multitudes  more.  Oh  that  I  could  even  now  carry  it 
home  to  any,  burdened  down  with  the  sense  of  sin, 
that  many  who  are  now  thankful  and  happy  believers, 
that  many  who  are  now  in  heaven,  have  had  the  self 
same  fears,  and  have  seen  their  sins  in  the  very  same 
way!  Oh  that  I  could  carry  it  to  the  despairing 
heart,  that  there  is  no  sin  but  Christ's  blood  can  wash 
away ;  that  He  did  not  come  to  save  those  who  fan 
cied  they  really  do  not  need^much  saving,  but  "  to 
save  sinners,  even  the  chief" ;  that  it  is  a  hopeful  sign 
that  we  shall  find  the  Physician  of  souls  when  we 
feel  how  sorely  we  are  stricken  with  the  disease ; 
and  that  sinfulness,  in  its  very  darkest  manifestations, 
is  nothing  other  than  a  disease  "  which  is  common  to 
man  "  ! 

A  second  case  in  which  the  text  may  afford  com 
fort,  is  that  which  the  Apostle  had  especially  in  his 
mind  when  he  wrote  it :  it  is  in  the  prospect  and 
under  the  pressure  of  temptation.  My  friends,  apart 
from  any  reason  which  would  bear  logical  scrutiny, 


268         THE  LIMITS   OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

there  is  comfort  under  any  trouble  in  the  bare  thought 
that  other  human  beings  have  known  the  like  trouble, 
that  we  are  treated  no  more  hardly  than  our  fellow- 
men.  But  as  regards  temptation,  our  text  suggests 
more  than  merely  this  undefined  and  comparatively 
sentimental  consolation  ;  we  can  draw  comfort  under 
temptation  from  our  text  by  stern  logic,  as  well  as 
through  the  medium  of  a  kind  of  vague,  emotional 
impulse.  For  we  may  .soundly  argue,  that,  if  no 
temptation  is  likely  to  assail  us,  except  temptation 
through  which  human  souls  as  weak  as  we  have  by 
God's  grace  passed  safely  into  glory,  —  then  that  we 
too  may  hope,  by  the  same  blessed  aid,  to  fight  our 
way  through  all  the  influences  which  would  lead 
towards  ruin,  till  we  enter  on  the  holiness,  the  safety, 
the  rest  above.  That  which  man  has  done,  man  may 
do.  The  great  Adversary,  and  the  ensnaring  world, 
fairly  vanquished  in  a  hundred  battles,  may  well  be 
vanquished  again.  No  doubt,  we  may  imagine  temp 
tations  which  would  be  too  much  for  human  beings 
to  resist,  and  duties  too  weighty  for  human  beings  to 
do  ;  but,  if  we  be  true  believers,  we  have  God's  word 
for  it,  that  such  shall  not  come  our  way.  There  is  a 
limit  beyond  which  the  strength  of  any  impulse  to 
sin  shall  not  be  suffered  to  reach  ;  and  though  the 
great  Adversary  and  Tempter  may  go  about  continu 
ally  seeking  whom  he  may  deceive  and  mislead,  after 
all,  he  fights  in  fetters ;  there  is  a  point  beyond 
which  his  power  and  craft  shall  never  be  allowed  to 


THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.         269 

reach ;  and  that  is  the  point  up  to  which  each  one 
of  us  may,  by  honest  effort  on  our  own  part,  and  by 
God's  directing  and  sustaining  grace,  fairly  resist  and 
vanquish  him.  Temptation  may  indeed  often  come, 
which  the  man  who  does  not  honestly  want  to  resist 
it  may  be  willing  to  fancy  irresistible ;  it  is  not  a 
half-hearted  opposition  that  will  suffice  to  put  temp 
tation  down ;  and  in  too  many  instances  we  are  all 
but  too  anxious  to  persuade  ourselves  that,  under 
pressure  so  strong  as  that  which  is  bearing  upon  us, 
we  should  be  more  than  human  if  we  did  not  devi 
ate  somewhat  from  the  strict  line  of  right.  When 
you  meet  some  malignant  injury,  there  is  a  strong 
provocation  to  bitterness  and  revenge ;  when  you  are 
passed  over  in  favor  of  one  you  may  think  less  de 
serving  than  yourself,  there  is  a  strong  provocation 
to  envy,  discontent,  murmuring  against  God ;  when 
you  have  the  opportunity  of  acquiring  profit  by  means 
which  are  unfair  and  dishonest,  but  which  you  know 
quite  well  that  many  reputable  people  would  not  for 
a  moment  hesitate  to  employ,  there  is  a  strong  temp 
tation  to  stifle  the  voice  of  conscience  and  of  God's 
Spirit,  and  to  do  that  unfair  thing.  But  in  every 
such  case  you  know  thoroughly  well,  that,  though 
temptation  was  strong,  it  was  not  by  any  means  over 
whelming  ;  you  could  have  resisted  it  if  you  had  hon 
estly  tried ;  and  the  reason  why  you  yielded  to  it  was 
not  that  temptation  was  irresistible,  but  that  inclina 
tion  lay  that  way.  You  know  perfectly  well,  that  for 


270         THE  LIMITS   OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

the  evil  you  have  done,  even  under  that  pressure,  you 
are  justly  responsible  to  God.  And  you  would  not 
feel  that  you  were  thus  responsible,  if  you  could  truly 
say  at  God's  judgment-seat,  that  before  Him  you 
could  not  choose  but  do  the  evil  you  have  done  ; 
that  you  were  powerless  in  the  hand  of  temptation, 
and  could  but  drift  before  it  as  a  ship  before  the 
overmastering  hurricane.  So,  you  see,  there  is  a 
double  lesson  in  our  text  for  those  subjected  to  temp 
tation.  There  is  comfort,  and  there  is  caution.  If 
you  honestly  and  truly  wish  to  go  on  in  God's  way, 
there  is  abounding  comfort.  There  is  the  comfort, 
that,  though  manifold  temptations  will  strive  to  lead 
you  wrong,  —  though  many  siren  voices  may  whisper 
evil  to  your  heart,  and  many  weighty  considerations 
may  tend  towards  profitable  and  pleasant  sin,  —  and 
though  a  whole  array  of  crafty  spirits  may  plot  your 
downfall,  and  though  their  dark,  malignant  Ruler  be 
ever  near,  —  still,  that  the  temptation  will  never 
come  that  would  need  angelic  strength  to  resist,  —  the 
temptation  will  never  come  that  human  beings  like 
ourselves  have  not  faced  already,  and  which  God's 
grace  and  our  own  faithful  endeavors  will  not  enable 
us  to  pass  through.  But  there  is  the  caution,  too, 
that,  if  you  are  an  insincere  and  half-hearted  Chris 
tian,  seeking  to  just  reach  heaven  at  last,  after  having 
held  by  the  world  here,  you  need  never  think  to 
cloak  your  own  proneness  to  go  astray  under  the  pre 
text  that  temptation  overpowered  you.  Never  think, 


THE  LIMITS   OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.          271 

as  some  hypocritically  do,  to  cast  wholly  upon  Satan 
the  sin  into  which  they  went  quite  readily  themselves. 
You  will  find  people  who  will  utter  phrases  of  hate 
ful  cant  which  seem  to  imply  that  it  is  Satan's  fault 
they  have  done  wrong,  —  and  that  it  is  really  nc 
concern  of  theirs.  Ah,  brethren,  when  a  man  sins, 
the  sin  is  essentially  his  own.  He  must  answer  for 
it  himself.  Satan  might  tempt  him  to  do  wrong ; 
but  Satan  could  not  compel  him  to  do  wrong ;  his 
own  evil  heart  must  have  consented  to  the  evil  he 
has  done.  Satan  is  bad  enough ;  but  some  people 
would  hypocritically  give  him  credit  for  things  with 
which  he  has  very  little  to  do.  I  know,  my  hearers, 
that  cases  may  be  supposed  in  which  temptation  may 
be  regarded  as  truly  overwhelming.  I  know  that  the 
starving  man  would  be  punished  neither  by  man  nor 
by  God  for  taking  the  bread  which  is  to  save  him 
from  death  by  famine ;  but  that  case  is  almost  the 
only  supposable  one  in  which,  in  actual  life,  temptation 
ever  becomes  truly  irresistible  ;  and  such  cases  we 
may  very  fitly  leave  to  the  Divine  justice  and  mercy. 
I  know  that  even  human  law  admits  that  strong  prov 
ocation  may  diminish  responsibility,  though  it  do  not 
destroy  it ;  and  we  may  be  sure  that  all  the  principles 
of  right  and  justice  will  not  be  forgot  by  God.  But 
the  believer  has  a  sure  promise,  which  the  worldly 
man  has  not,  that  all  overwhelming  extremes  of 
temptation  shall  be  warded  off  from  him.  For  how 
speaks  the  Apostle,  in  the  words  which  follow  those 


272         THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

of  the  text  ?  "  God  is  faithful,  who  will  not  suffer 
you  to  be  tempted  above  that  ye  are  able ;  but  will 
with  the  temptation  also  make  a  way  to  escape,  that 
ye  may  be  able  to  bear  it." 

The  last  case  which  I  shall  mention,  as  one  in 
which  the  text  may  speak  comfort,  is  under  great  sor 
row,  —  under  bereavement,  or  trial  of  any  kind.  I 
am  not  forgetting  how  beautifully  it  has  been  said  that 
in  bereavement  there  is  no  consolation  here.  You 
remember  how  the  greatest  of  living  poets  speaks 
of  the  fashion  in  which  some  tried  to  comfort  him 
under  the  loss  of  his  dearest  friend :  — 

"  One  writes,  that '  other  friends  remain,'  — 
That '  loss  is  common  to  the  race : '  — 
And  common  is  the  commonplace, 
And  vacant  chaff  well  meant  for  grain. 

"  That  loss  is  common  would  not  make 
My  own  less  bitter,  rather  more; 
Too  common !     Never  morning  wore 
To  evening,  but  some  heart  did  break." 

I  know,  brethren,  that  it  may  be  said  heartlessly,  — 
but  even  in  the  face  of  the  poet's  lines,  I  say  there  is 
comfort  in  sorrow,  when  it  is  rightly  regarded,  in  the 
truth  that  "  there  hath  nothing  befallen  us  but  such  as 
is  common  to  man."  Surely,  even  the  thought  that 
we  have  companions  in  sorrow, —  that  those  who  have 
felt  the  like  can  feel  for  us,  and  understand  our  dis 
tress,  and  sympathize  with  us,  —  has  in  it  something  of 


THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.         273 

comfort.  I  think  that  the  mother,  who  has  lost  her 
child,  would  feel  a  consolation,  hard  perhaps  to  define, 
when  another,  who  has  passed  through  the  like  trial, 
does  but  come  and  sit  by  her,  and  say  no  word  but 
that  she  has  felt  the  same.  Surely,  there  is  some 
thing  consoling  to  our  heart,  amid  earthly  sorrows,  in 
the  bare  remembrance  that  our  Saviour  understands 
them,  because  He  has  felt  them  all!  But  the  text 
suggests  comfort  which  may  appear  to  some  as  more 
substantial  than  this.  It  suggests  to  us  not  merely 
this  vague  relief,  —  not  merely  that  amid  our  deepest 
and  freshest  grief  there  is  encouragement  in  the  sight 
of  others  who  have  now  in  so  far  got  over  the  like,  — 
who  have  tamed  their  sorrow,  —  who  have  found  that 
grief  is  transitory,  no  less  than  joy,  and  that  though  it 
may  not  leave  us  what  we  were,  still  it  leaves  us,  — 
but  the  text  suggests,  too,  that  others  who  have  known 
such  sorrow  as  we  feel,  have  been  enabled  by  God's 
grace  to  bear  it,  and  profit  by  it,  and  learn  from  it, 
and  be  sanctified  by  it ;  and  surely  there  is  something 
in  that  thought  which  should  enable  us  to  bow  the 
more  submissively  to  our  Heavenly  Father's  will.  I 
say  there  is  comfort  in  the  remembrance  that  the  best 
and  noblest  of  the  race  have  felt  all  we  feel ;  that 
through  like  tribulation  the  souls  in  glory  have  "  en 
tered  into  the  kingdom  of  God  " ;  that  the  best  hearts 
that  ever  beat  have  known  the  pang  of  sorrow  and  be 
reavement  ;  that  the  best  of  the  race  have  bent  over 
the  freshly-covered  grave ;  ay,  and  gone  back  to  the 
18 


1 


274         THE  LIMITS  OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE. 

world  to  be  the  better,  kinder,  and  nobler,  for  the 
sad  discipline  they  had  gone  through  !  Others  have 
known  it,  others  have  borne  it  bravely,  others  have 
been  sanctified  by  it,  others  have  been  prepared  for 
glory  by  it,  and  so  may  we.  Yes,  this  thought  is  a 
commonplace ;  and  better  so.  It  would  not  be  true  if 
it  were  not.  It  would  not  be  level  to  our  understand 
ing  and  our  sympathy,  if  it  were  something  new  that 
people  had  to  find  out,  after  human  beings  have  been 
sinning  and  sorrowing  for  near  six  thousand  years. 
I  say  there  is  comfort,  real  and  deep,  in  thinking  that 
the  path  of  sorrow  we  tread  has  been  beaten  smooth 
and  wide  by  the  feet  of  the  best  that  ever  trod  this 
world ;  that  our  Blessed  Saviour  was  a  Man  of  Sor 
rows  ;  and  that  the  best  of  His  Church  have  been  suf 
fered  to  journey  by  no  other  path  than  that  their  Mas 
ter  went.  It  is  not  alone  that  the  mourner  travels 
through  this  vale  of  tears  :  apostles  and  prophets  are 
of  the  company ;  saints  and  martyrs  go  with  him ; 
and  the  sorrowful  face  of  the  Great  Redeemer,  though 
sorrowful  now  no  more,  remains  forever  with  the  old 
look  of  brotherly  sympathy  to  His  servants'  eyes 
and  hearts.  Nothing  hath  come  to  us,  nothing  will 
come  to  us,  but  has  been  shared  by  better  men. 
Search  out  the  human  being  suffering  the  sharpest 
sorrow,  and  we  can  match  it,  in  the  best  of  the  Church 
of  God.  We  fancy,  in  our  dark  days,  that  no  other 
heart  ever  felt  what  we  feel.  There  was  a  man 
who  directed  that,  when  he  was  buried,  his  gravestone 


THE  LIMITS   OF  HUMAN  EXPERIENCE.         275 

should  bear  no  record  of  his  name  or  history,  but  just 
•the  single  word  Miserrimus:  Most  Wretched  ;  and  he 
sleeps  under  the  pavement  of  one  of  the  great  cathe 
drals  of  England,  with  that  one  word  to  mark  the 
place.  You  see  there,  my  friends,  the  natural  feeling 
which  you  yourselves  have  known ;  but  you  may  be 
sure  it  is  wrong.  It  is  not  now,  after  the  tribulation 
of  all  these  ages,  that  any  human  soul  can  reach  that 
sad  preeminence !  God  sanctify  sorrow  to  us,  as  He 
has  sanctified  it  to  others !  They  trod  the  path  we 
tread  ;  and  we  may  humbly  hope  that  it  will  conduct 
us  to  the  rest  in  which  they  are  dwelling.  And 
meanwhile,  be  sure  of  this,  —  you  who  have  lately 
known  deep  sorrow,  you  who  have  bent  over  the 
grave  where  your  dearest  was  laid  to  sleep  the  long 
sleep  till  the  Resurrection  day,  —  that  nothing  has 
come  to  you  but  what  God  can  comfort  under,  that 
nothing  has  come  to  you  but  what  God  can  hallow 
into  precious  blessing;  because  there  hath  nothing 
befallen  you,  but  what  the  Wisest  and  Kindest  has 
seen  meet  to  suffer,  shall  be  common  to  fallen 
man  I 


XVI. 


THE   PERSONALITY   AND    AGENCY   OF  EVIL 
SPIRITS. 

"  Your  adversary  the  Devil,  as  a  roaring  lion,  walketh  about,  seek 
ing  whom  he  may  devour."  —  1  PETER  v.  8. 

"  And  the  angels .  which  kept  not  their  first  estate,  but  left  their 
own  habitation,  he  hath  reserved  in  everlasting  chains  under 
darkness  unto  the  judgment  of  the  great  day."  —  JUDE  6. 

"  Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting  fire,  prepared  for 
the  Devil  and  his  angels." —  ST.  MATT.  xxv.  41. 

'OU  know,  my  friends,  that  when  an  army 
is  on  active  service,  there  is  no  effort 
which  its  commander  will  spare  to  get 
accurate  information  about  the  army 
which  is  opposed  to  him.  He  uses  all  the  means  in 
his  power,  he  undergoes  great  fatigues,  and  his 
agents  and  emissaries  are  content  to  run  the  most 
fearful  risks,  that  he  may  learn  what  is  the  number 
of  the  force  arrayed  against  him,  what  is  its  position, 
what  its  probable  movements.  And  if  any  skilful 
spy  could  so  far  penetrate  the  councils  of  the  hostile 
commander  as  to  be  able  to  procure  a  sketch  of  his 
plan  for  conducting  the  campaign,  we  can  all  under 
stand  that  such  a  plan  would  be  worth  almost  any 


PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS.     277 

price.  For  to  be  forewarned  is  to  be  forearmed  ;  and 
if  you  know  exactly  what  are  the  tactics  which  are  to 
be  employed  against  you,  it  will  be  comparatively 
easy  to  evade  them. 

And,  without  any  minute  acquaintance  with  military 
matters,  we  all  know  that  one  of  the  things  which  a 
skilful  general  takes  pains  to  do,  is  to  organize  such 
a  system  of  spies  and  the  like  as  may  keep  him  al 
ways  well  informed  of  the  position,  strength,  and  pos 
sible  movements  of  his  enemies.  Thus  he  makes  sure, 
so  far  as  may  be,  that  he  shall  never  be  taken  by  sur 
prise.  And  we  can  all  understand  that  he  would  be 
a  very  unwise  and  unskilful  commander,  who  should 
make  up  his  mind  that  he  did  not  want  to  know  any 
thing  at  all  about  his  adversaries  :  about  how  many 
of  them  there  might  be ;  about  the  time  when  they 
might  choose  to  attack  him  ;  about  the  point  on  which 
they  might  make  their  attack;  about  the  particular 
kind  of  attack  they  might  make.  And  if  the  military 
commander,  in  addition  to  closing  his  eyes  and  ears 
against  all  warning  as  to  the  host  of  foes  that  were 
waiting  to  swoop  down  upon  him,  were  occasionally 
to  allude  to  them,  and  the  risks  he  ran  from  them,  as 
forming  an  excellent  jest ;  if  he  brought  those  around 
him  to  this  point,  that  it  was  an  understood  thing  that 
there  was  something  essentially  ludicrous  in  the  men 
tion  of  the  name  of  these  powerful  and  crafty  foes,  so 
that  every  silly  creature  who  only  managed  to  intro 
duce  their  name  into  his  common  speech  should  be 


278     PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

regarded  as  having  said  something  smart  and  witty ; 
I  think  you  will  agree  that  an  army  so  guided  and 
commanded  would  be  in  the  sure  way  to  defeat,  and 
disgrace,  and  destruction. 

And  yet,  my  friends,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  tell 
you,  that  it  is  precisely  in  that  fashion  that  very  many 
human  beings  are  accustomed  to  treat  the  most  skilful, 
crafty,  malignant,  and  it  may  be  numerous  army  of 
foes  that  ever  has  been  arrayed  against  God  or  man. 
It  is  a  part  of  our  religious  belief  that  a  host  of  be 
ings,  with  power  and  skill  far  more  than  human,  are 
daily  and  hourly  exerting  all  their  power  and  all  their 
skill  for  an  end  which  is  no  other  and  no  less  than 
our  eternal  ruin ;  it  is  not  the  defeat  which  one  mor 
tal  army  would  inflict  upon  another  that  they  desire 
to  inflict  upon  us;  the  thing  which  they  wish  and 
work  to  bring  upon  us,  is  our  eternal  misery,  and  sin, 
and  shame.  It  is  part  of  our  religious  belief,  that  at 
the  head  of  this  host  of  foes  there  is  one  miserable, 
yet  powerful  being,  a  being  inconceivably  malignant, 
crafty,  powerful,  wretched,  whose  great  desire  is  to 
dishonor  God,  and  to  make  us  poor  human  beings  as 
sinful  and  as  wretched  as  himself :  our  "  adversary 
the  Devil,  who,  as  a  roaring  lion,  walketh  about,  seek 
ing  whom  he  may  devour."  And  we  are  taught,  too, 
that  this  blasted  being  is  the  head  and  leader  of  an 
army  of  spirits,  once  pure  and  happy,  but  now  wicked 
and  wretched,  who,  under  the  darkness  of  God's 
wrath,  and  with  powers  somewhat  limited  by  the 


PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS.     279 

chains  of  God's  will,  with  no  ray  of  hope  before  them 
in  the  blank,  desolate  Eternity,  are  acting  as  the 
Devil's  emissaries  for  human  temptation  and  destruc 
tion,  and  doing  all  they  can  to  lead  us  downward  to 
those  everlasting  fires  prepared  for  him  and  them. 
Oh,  what  a  dreary,  awful  picture  is  sketched  out  by 
those  three  passages  of  Scripture  which  I  read  to  you 
as  my  text !  What  despair  for  our  adversaries  ;  what 
peril,  what  warning  for  ourselves !  And  how,  then, 
do  you  think  it  would  strike  a  stranger,  if  we  were  to 
tell  him  that  multitudes  of  men,  assailed  every  mo 
ment  by  that  black  army,  do  practically  shut  their 
eyes  to  the  fact,  never  take  the  slightest  pains  to 
learn  anything  about  the  power  and  the  wiles  of  their 
worst  enemies,  nay,  are  so  far  from  seriously  under 
standing  and  feeling  the  force  of  all  this  which  they 
believe,  that  the  mention  of  beings,  or  of  a  being,  so 
miserable,  so  awful,  so  tremendously  energetic,  active, 
cunning,  malignant,  is  regarded  by  some  men  as  a 
very  amusing  thing,  as  giving  point  to  a  jest  which 
has  little  other  point,  as  a  signal,  whenever  it  is  in 
troduced,  for  the  empty  laughter  of  the  fool !  Oh, 
surely  a  subject  of  such  horror,  and  the  contemplation 
of  so  much  depravity  and  such  unutterable  misery, 
could  never  be  regarded  as  matter  of  amusement  and 
jesting,  unless  by  souls  blinded  and  misled  by  the 
wiles  of  the  dark  Father  of  Lies  himself ! 

Now,  there  is  no  doubt  at  all  that  we  have  all  to 
contend  with  a  certain  amount  of  lurking  unbelief  in 


280     PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS 

regard  to  those  evil  spirits  of  which  we  are  to  think 
this  afternoon.  There  is  something  strange  in  think 
ing  that  we,  in  this  commonplace  life,  and  living  amid 
these  familiar  scenes  we  know,  are  indeed  day  by  day 
subjected  to  the  attacks  and  the  arts  of  infernal  spirits. 
It  would  somehow  not  strike  us  as  so  strange,  to  think 
of  these  beings  as  assailing  human  souls  in  distant 
places  and  in  ages  past.  In  the  solitary  wilderness 
of  Sinai,  amid  rifted  rocks  and  hills  of  red  sand,  it  is 
easier  to  think  of  the  Devil  and  his  angels  working 
upon  the  heart  than  to  think  of  them  doing  so  in  the 
case  of  a  human  being  who  lives  in  a  house  in  an 
Edinburgh  Row,  and  sometimes  walks  along  Princes 
Street.  Let  us  face  these  facts  ;  little  things  like 
these  have  a  very  great  practical  effect  on  the  minds 
of  most  men ;  and  many  things,  not  at  all  of  the  na 
ture  of  argument,  have  a  very  real,  though  undeserved, 
influence  upon  our  convictions  and  belief.  And  not 
merely  is  there  among  professing  Christians  a  great 
amount  of  practical  unbelief  as  regards  the  existence 
and  influence  of  Evil  Spirits,  —  not  merely  are  we  all 
subjected  to  a  strong,  undefined  temptation,  practically 
to  forget  and  set  aside  the  solemn  fact  that  real  per 
sons,  cleverer  and  sharper  by  far  than  ourselves,  are 
ever  near  us,  with  power  of  mysterious  access  to  our 
souls,  and  with  the  will  to  do  us  all  the  mischief  they 
can,  —  but  it  is  doubtless  known  to  some  of  you  that 
theoretical  unbelief  has  in  some  cases  grown,  as  it 
very  usually  does,  out  of  practical,  and  that  many 


PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL   SPIRITS.     281 

men  who  profess  to  be  Christians  have  proceeded 
from  living  as  if  there  were  no  malignant  spirits  plot 
ting  our  ruin,  to  holding  the  belief  that  in  fact  there 
are  none  such.  You  will  find  men  who  will  tell  you 
that  the  existence  of  Satan  and  his  angels  is  an  anti 
quated  doctrine,  fitted  for  a  ruder  age,  but  not  suited 
to  our  growing  intelligence ;  they  will  tell  you  that  it 
is  not  to  be  supposed  that  God  would  suffer  such  be 
ings  to  exist  and  to  assail  us,  and  that  all  that  was 
said  by  Christ  and  His  Apostles  with  regard  to  evil 
spirits  —  all  that  they  said  implying  that  there  are 
such  beings,  and  that  they  can  do,  harm  to  man  — 
must  be  understood  as  having  been  said  in  compliance 
with  the  vulgar  way  of  thinking.  But  I  think  you 
will  see  that  such  arguments  as  these  against  the 
doctrine  of  the  real  being  of  evil  spirits  are  of  no 
force  whatever.  As  to  the  notion  that  the  Almighty 
would  not  'suffer  such,  why,  there  is  no  greater  diffi 
culty  in  understanding  why  He  permits  evil  spirits 
than  in  understanding  why  He  permits  evil  men. 
And  we  know  that  God  not  only  allows  evil  men  to 
exist,  but  allows  them  to  tempt  and  mislead  other 
human  souls  to  evil,  in  short,  allows  them  to  do  the 
self-same  work  which  some  so  rashly  say  it  is  incon 
ceivable  that  God  should  permit  to  be  done  at  all. 
And  as  for  the  notion  that  Christ  and  the  Apostles  in 
speaking  of  evil  spirits  were  merely  complying  with 
the  vulgar  way  of  thinking,  —  merely  to  put  that 
notion  plainly  before  our  minds  is  enough  to  set  it 


282     PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

aside.  See  what  it  comes  to.  That  there  are  no  evil 
spirits ;  that  it  is  a  foolish  error  to  fancy  there  are ; 
that  people,  however,  generally  fancied  there  are  ;  and 
that  our  Saviour,  for  fear  of  shocking  their  prejudice, 
gave  in  to  that  foolish  error,  and  countenanced  it. 
Now,  is  that  conceivable  ?  Would  that  have  been 
worthy  of  Him  who  is  the  Truth ;  would  that  shifty, 
tricky,  mean,  uncandid  policy  have  been  like  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  ?  No,  my  friends ;  there  is  110  resisting  the 
teaching  of  inspiration,  as  set  forth  even  in  those 
verses  which  form  my  text,  that  you  and  I,  in  leading 
our  spiritual  life, .have  to  contend  with  real,  personal 
beings  striving  to  lead  us  wrong ;  that  there  is  some 
thing  more  against  us  than  merely  the  force  of  cir 
cumstances,  and  the  current  of  events  in  a  fallen 
world ;  that  not  merely  the  evil  world  around  us,  and 
the  evil  heart  within  us,  are  driving  us  away  from 
God,  but  that  these  are  seconded  and  used  by  real 
persons  of  the  greatest  power  and  craft.  Ought  we 
not  to  seek  to  know  something  of  the  nature  and  the 
wiles  of  our  great  adversaries ;  ought  we  not  to  study 
with  care  all  that  God  has  revealed  to  us  about  them, 
and  the  ways  in  which  they  may  assail  us,  that  with 
His  grace  and  blessing  we  may  be  forearmed  against 
their  assault  ?  Ah,  brethren,  if  any  of  you  were  told 
that  some  savage  wild  beast  had  escaped  from  its  con 
finement,  and  was  roaming  the  country,  destroying  all 
it  met,  would  you  not  be  anxious  to  learn  where  it  had 
seen,  and  how  it  attacked  its  victims,  that  so  you 


PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS.     283 

might  know  how  best  to  escape  it  ?  And  is  there  less 
reason  for  fear  and  for  caution,  less  reason  for  anxious 
inquiry  and  for  careful  preparation,  when  God's  sol 
emn  word  assures  us  that  "  our  adversary  the  Devil, 
as  a  roaring  lion,  walketh  about,  seeking  whom  he 
may  devour "  ?  We  do  not  see  him  and  his  subject 
demons ;  but,  surely,  if  we  rightly  judged,  that  does 
not  make  them  less,  but  far  more  dangerous.  What 
do  you  think  a  human  robber  or  murderer  would  give 
for  the  power  of  rendering  himself  invisible  at  will  ? 
Would  not  that  multiply  a  thousand-fold  his  ability  to 
do  harm?  Yes,  and  give  those  to  whom  he  wished 
to  do  harm  a  thousand-fold  more  reason  to  stand  in 
hourly  fear  of  him ! 

We  all  know  that  the  Bible  contains  many  refer 
ences  to  evil  spirits,  unclean  spirits,  or  devils ;  and  it 
is  worthy  of  being  remembered  that  in  the  New  Tes 
tament  there  is  very  much  more  frequent  mention 
made  of  evil  angels  than  of  good  angels.  For  what 
ever  advantages  we  may  ever  derive  from  the  aid  and 
guidance  of  good  angels,  we  gain  by  the  direct  inter 
vention  of  God ;  and  we  are  not  to  think  of  making 
any  application  to  any  good  spirit  for  his  help.  It  is 
not  by  personal  applications  or  prayers  to  good  angels 
themselves  that  we  can  hope  to  get  them  for  our 
guardians.  We  are  not  to  invoke  for  ourselves  the 
kindly  care  of  those  bright  beings,  but  to  ask  of  God 
to  keep  us  and  care  for  us  by  whatever  instrumentality 
He  thinks  best.  But  it  is  different  with  evil  spirits. 


284    PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

Against  them  we  are  called  personally  to  guard.  We 
may,  by  our  own  evil  thoughts  and  ways,  tempt  them  to 
tempt  us.  The  visits  of  pure  angels  have  been,  in  the 
history  of  our  race,  few  and  far  between.  The  great 
Adversary,  and  his  accursed  spirits,  are  ever  near. 
To  them  we  may  open  our  hearts.  For  them  we  may 
smoothe  a  path  to  us.  And  them  we  may  by  God's 
grace  resist,  and  drive  away.  We  are  exposed  to 
great  perils  from  them,  against  which  we  need  to  be 
guarded. 

The  teaching  of  Scripture,  as  has  been  said,  is,  that 
at  the  head  of  the  kingdom  of  evil  there  is  placed  one 
being,  of  vast  power,  craft,  and  malignity.  That  from 
the  earliest  ages  he  has  been  the  adversary  of  God ; 
and  that  very  soon  after  the  creation  of  our  race  he 
was  the  tempter,  too  successfully,  of  man.  "  He  was 
a  murderer  from  the  beginning ; "  "  He  is  a  liar  and 
the  father  of  lies."  "  He  that  committeth  sin  is  of 
the  Devil,  for  the  Devil  sinneth  from  the  beginning. 
For  this  purpose  the  Son  of  God  was  manifested,  that 
He  might  destroy  the  works  of  the  Devil."  When 
the  word  of  God,  fallen  upon  man's  heart,  seems  likely 
to  grow  up  into  good  fruit  there,  "  then  cometh  the 
Devil,  and  taketh  away  the  word  out  of  their  hearts." 
Inferior  to  this  great  father  of  mischief,  there  is  a 
great  host  of  evil  spirits,  or  demons  ;  concerning  whom 
we  are  told  that  they 'are  angels  who  kept  not  their 
first  estate,  but  left  their  own  habitation ;  beings  who, 
having  fallen  into  sin  and  misery,  seek  to  lead  others 


PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS.     285 

into  sin  and  misery,  too.  And  when  we  find  powers 
ascribed  to  Satan  which  somewhat  perplex  us,  as  ap 
pearing  to  transcend  those  of  a  mere  creature,  —  as 
when  we  find  Scripture  speaking  of  him  as  attacking 
and  tempting  many  men  in  many  places  at  once,  — 
we  are  to  believe  that  he  does  so  by  means  of  his  angels 
and  emissaries;  and  so  may  properly  be  said  to  do 
what  he  does  by  them  ;  as  when  we  say  of  a  military 
commander  that  he  wins  a  battle,  or  occupies  a  prov 
ince  ;  that  is,  l^e  does  it  through  the  agency  of  the 
soldiers  he  commands.  And  thus,  my  friends,  for 
what  we  know,  there  may  be  around  us  a  host  of  evil 
spirits,  exceeding  the  number  of  our  race ;  invisible 
to  our  view,  yet  with  ready  access  to  our  hearts ;  with 
craft  and  talent  and  ingenuity  infinitely  surpassing 
ours ;  and  earnestly  and  ceaselessly,  with  the  malig 
nity  of  utter  despair,  bending  those  great  energies  upon 
the  work  of  our  eternal  ruin.  That  air  may  be 
thick  with  them ;  this  church  may  be  thronged  with 
them ;  our  own  hearts  may  be  in  the  grasp  of  one  or 
of  many  of  them !  Oh,  brethren,  when  you  soberly 
think  of  all  this,  can  there  be  a  more  appalling 
thought ! 

But  the  thing  of  practical  moment  for  each  of  us 
is  the  manner  in  which  they  make  their  attack  upon 
us.  And  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  we  may  be 
quite  sure  that  they  will  attack  us  in  the  most  crafty 
way.  And  will  not  the  most  crafty  way  in  which  an 
evil  spirit  can  present  himself  and  his  temptations 


286     PERSONALITY  AXD  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

to  our  mind  and  heart  be  the  way  in  which  we  least 
expect  him  to  do  so?  Yes;  Scripture  tells  us  that 
Satan  can  transform  himself  into  an  angel  of  light. 
He  is  too  cunning  to  present  himself  in  his  own 
black  colors,  when  he  can  veil  himself  in  a  more 
engaging  form.  We  can  well  imagine  that  it  might 
form  part  of  the  tactics  of  the  great  Adversary  to 
seek  to  induce  men  to  believe  that  there  are  no  such 
things  as  evil  spirits  at  all ;  we  may  well  trace  his 
handiwork  in  that  disposition  to  treat  with  levity  and 
as  a  jest  the  mention  of  his  ill-omened  name.  We 
can  well  imagine  how  evil  spirits  may  set  themselves 
to  make  men  fancy  that  the  mode  of  their  attacks  is 
widely  different  from  what  it  is  in  fact ;  and  so  to 
trace  their  presence  and  influence  not  in  evil  thoughts 
and  suggestions  which  weave  in  so  naturally  with  the 
workings  of  our  own  minds,  and  seem  to  arise  so 
spontaneously  there,  that  it  is  hard  to  refer  their 
origin  to  anything  apart  from  ourselves ;  but  rather 
in  ghastly  appearances,  in  frightful  shapes,  in  childish 
legends  of  compacts  made  in  wild  solitudes  and  writ 
ten  in  letters  of  blood.  Ah,  brethren,  not  such  are 
the  assaults  of  Satan  and  the  blasted  beings  he  com 
mands  !  The  Devil  and  his  angels  are  not  so  simple 
as  to  take  pains  to  caution  men  against  themselves. 
You  will  find  people  whose  notion  of  evil  spirits  is 
of  dark  and  awful  forms,  physically  horrible ;  and  the 
genius  of  the  artist  has  often  pictured  on  the  canvas 
shapes  so  ghastly,  as  those  in  which  such  spirits  have 


PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS.     287 

manifested  themselves  to  human  ken,  that  it  might 
almost  seem  as  if  they  fancied  it  likely  that  these 
malignant  deceivers  would  take  pains  to  announce  the 
truth  about  themselves,  and  bid  all  clearly  understand 
how  bad  and  foul  they  are.  No  ;  the  day  may  come 
when  they  shall  be  revealed  to  all  the  universe,  as 
fearful  in  aspect  as  they  are  evil  in  character :  but 
not  yet.  Why,  if  the  Devil  showed  himself  to  our 
eyes  or  hearts  in  his  true  aspect,  do  you  think  that 
would  be  a  temptation  to  any  one  ?  No  ;  it  would 
be  the  most  effectual  caution  and  warning  against  him. 
It  is  God's  Word  that  tells  us  how  he  goes  about  like 
a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour ;  he  is 
not  likely  to  announce  that  himself.  Do  you  think  a 
fraudulent  trader  would  go  about  proclaiming  that  he 
was  a  rogue,  and  that  if  you  dealt  with  him  he  would 
be  sure  to  cheat  you  ?  If  a  man  were  trying  to  get 
you  to  buy  his  bad  wares,  would  he  be  likely  to  take 
pains  to  tell  you  how  bad  they  were  ?  Would  the 
cheat  succeed  in  defrauding  any  one,  if  he  laid  open 
the  arts  by  which  he  hoped  to  defraud  men  ;  if  he 
openly  said,  Buy  my  knives,  they  won't  cut ;  Buy  my 
cloth,  it  won't  wear ;  Embark  in  my  ship,  it  is  sure 
to  go  to  the  bottom  and  drown  all  on  board?  No, 
my  friends  ;  the  evil  one  and  his  angels  are  not  weak 
enough  to  announce  to  us  how  evil  they  are,  and  how 
bent  upon  our  destruction.  The  old  serpent  did  not 
go  to  the  mother  of  our  race,  and  say,  Here  is  the 
fruit  which  God  forbade  you  to  eat ;  if  you  eat  it  you 


288     PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

are  sure  to  die;  but  never  mind  about  that;  it  is 
pleasant,  and  just  eat  it  notwithstanding.  Nay,  what 
were  his  fair  words :  "  Ye  shall  not  surely  die !  " 
And  so,  brethren,  when  Satan  would  tempt  us  to  our 
ruin,  he  is  not  likely  formally  to  suggest  to  us  that  he 
will  give  us  a  price  in  exchange  for  our  soul ;  he  is 
not  likely  to  offer  to  any  man  possessed  of  reason  so 
much  money  or  so  much  power  in  exchange  for  Jiis 
eternal  misery ;  the  weakest  man  would  hardly  make 
a  bargain  like  that,  with  the  facts  fairly  stated  to  him : 
That,  in  truth,  would  be  no  temptation  at  all.  No 
doubt,  Satan  often  actually  succeeds  in  driving  a  bar 
gain  which  really  amounts  to  that ;  no  doubt  he  often 
actually  gets  the  soul  of  man,  and  for  a  very  poor 
price  indeed;  but  man  makes  the  bargain  without 
seeing  that  he  is  doing  so ;  and  if  the  Adversary  does 
not  actually  present  himself  in  the  guise  of  an  angel 
of  light,  he  does  at  least  persuade  his  victim  that  he 
is  not  so  black  after  all;  that  the  sin  to  which  he 
tempts  is  not  so  malignantly  bad,  and  the  doom  to 
which  he  urges  is  doubtful  and  far  away.  It  is  in 
our  own  growing  worldliness  of  spirit,  —  in  our  own 
heart  getting  more  and  more  set  upon  the  things  of 
time  and  sense,  —  in  our  own  disposition  to  put  off  the 
care  of  religion  to  the  more  convenient  season  which 
never  comes,  —  in  our  own  temper  of  careless  easy- 
mindedness,  forgetful  of  the  awful  realities  of  heaven 
and  hell,  and  vaguely  trusting  that  through  God's 
mercy  things  will  somehow  go  right  for  eternity  with 


PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS.     289 

little  thought  or  pains  on  our  part,  —  oh,  brethren,  it 
is  in  symptoms  like  these  that  we  may  read  the  fearful 
indications  that  the  Devil  and  his  angels  are  working 
too  successfully  upon  our  hearts.  I  do  not  mention 
the  stimulus  of  unholy  passion,  of  covetousness,  of 
envy,  of  a  pharisaic  and  self-righteous  spirit,  of  the 
disposition  to  detraction  and  slander;  though  in  all 
these,  too,  we  may  read  the  doing  of  the  first  great 
slanderer  of  God  and  seducer  of  man.  You  fancy 
that  the  bitter,  angry  spirit  that  grows  up  within  you 
at  some  slight  offence  is  but  the  working  of  your  own 
natural  temperament ;  ah,  you  do  not  know  how  it 
may  be  fomented  and  encouraged  by  some  dark  being, 
specially  devoting  himself  to  the  task.  The  inquisitor 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  as  he  watched  the  rebel  against 
priestly  tyranny  stretched  upon  the  rack,  fancied  that 
it  was  honest  religious  zeal  that  impelled  the  torture 
•which  he  inflicted ;  he  little  thought  that,  while  fancy 
ing  he  was  doing  God  service,  he  was  actuated  by  the 
crafty  promptings  of  the  spirit  of  all  wrath  and  bitter 
ness  and  cruelty  within.  In  brief,  my  friends,  it  is 
reasonable  and  right  for  us  to  suspect  the  presence 
and  influence  of  an  evil  spirit  in  every  temptation  we 
ever  feel  to  sin  or  error,  in  every  intellectual  process 
that  would  cast  doubt  upon  God's  revealed  religion,  in 
every  impulse  that  would  prompt  to  any  deed  or  any 
thought  that  varies  from  the  mind  and  example  of  our 
Blessed  Saviour  Himself.  It  is  only  while  walking 
with  God,  in  that  way  in  which  His  Holy  Spirit 
19 


290     PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

would  lead  us,  that  we  can  ever  be  sure  that  we  are 
not  unconsciously  actuated  by  the  direction  of  unclean 
demons ;  and  we  never  can  be  certain,  in  the  case  of 
any  thought  or  feeling  or  impulse  within  us  not  in 
spired  from  above,  that  it  is  not  whispered  in  our  ear 
or  instilled  into  our  heart  by  some  wretched  and  ma 
lignant  fiend.  Not  by  the  mere  natural  working  of 
our  fallen  mind  does  the  evil  suggestion  arise ;  but 
weaving  in  with  that,  mysteriously  cooperating  with 
that,  reinforcing  and  aggravating  that,  comes  the 
baneful  influence  from  the  place  of  perdition ! 

And  yet,  though  this  truth  be  a  most  awful  one,  it 
is  a  salutary  one ;  it  is  one  which  it  is  good  for  us  to 
remember  and  reflect  upon.  Is  there  not  something 
here  to  fill  us  with  the  greater  horror  and  detestation 
of  sin,  —  to  lead  us  to  the  more  resolute  battling  with 
temptation  ?  Think  that  in  every  temptation  to  sin 
you  have  a  real  being,  a  person,  trying  to  lead  you 
into  guilt  and  ruin.  Think  that  every  time  you  sin, 
you  are  doing  the  very  thing  that  your  very  \vor,-t 
and  most  malicious  enemy  wishes  you  to  do,  and  is 
pushing  and  enticing  you  to  do !  Christian  brethren, 
is  not  that  a  motive  to  hate  and  shun  sin,  to  resist 
and  battle  with  temptation?  And  remember,  too, 
that  by  God's  grace,  and  by  the  aid  of  that  stronger 
and  mightier  Spirit  of  holiness,  and  truth,  and  com 
fort,  who  is  promised  to  be  with  us,  you  will  not  resist 
in  vain.  Your  ally  is  a  thousand-fold  more  powerful 
than  your  adversary:  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God, 


PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY   OF  EVIL   SPIRITS.    291 

who  is  upon  your  side,  is  able  to  strengthen  you  to 
withstand  the  strength,  and  to  enlighten  you  to  un 
ravel  the  wiles,  even  of  one  who,  so  far  as  we  know, 
appears  to  be  God's  craftiest  and  mightiest,  though 
most  miserable  and  most  wicked  creature.  And  by  the 
very  nature  of  this  creation  which  God  made,  honest, 
conscious  resistance  to  temptation  goes  to  make  the 
temptation  grow  weaker,  —  even  as  compliance  with 
temptation  goes  to  make  the  temptation  grow  stronger. 
And  the  same  law  extends,  we  know,  to  the  chief 
tempter  of  all.  How  speaks  God's  Word  ?  "  Resist 
the  Devil  and  he  will  flee  from  you!  "  Faithfully  in 
God's  strength  strive  against  every  impulse  to  sin, 
and  with  each  successive  defeat  the  attacks  of  the 
father  of  mischief  will  grow  weaker  and  less  frequent. 
Under  that  law  God  has  bound  him,  that  earnestly 
resisted  he  must  flee;  it  is  only  where  he  and  his 
agents  meet  a  half-hearted  opposition,  or  even  find 
the  doors  of  the  soul  thrown  open  to  admit  them,  that 
they  can  enter  in,  and  set  up  a  sway  in  that  heart,  and 
bind  it  in  chains  that  never  will  be  broken,  —  the 
chains  of  inveterate,  ineradicable  habit,  of  hopeless 
worldliness  of  soul  and  wickedness  of  life.  Oh,  my 
Christian  brethren,  as  you  care  for  your  souls,  strive 
and  pray  against  temptation ;  you  are  resisting  Satan 
then  !  Every  time  you  wilfully  yield  to  temptation, 
you  are  welcoming  the  Devil  and  his  angels .  to  your 
heart ;  you  are  giving  them  a  settlement  there  from 
which  you  may  never  be  able  to  dislodge  them,  here 


292    PERSONALITY  AND  AGENCY  OF  EVIL  SPIRITS. 

or  hereafter !  How  solemn  a  meaning  does  all  this 
cast  upon  that  petition  in  our  Lord's  prayer,  in  which 
He  bids  us  say,  "Lead  us  not  into  temptation,  but 
deliver  us  from  evil !  "  Many  of  you  know  that  the 
word  translated  evil  there,  means  the  evil  one  ;  so  that 
Christ  speaks  of  the  temptation  and  the  tempter  as 
meaning  the  same  thing :  "  Lead  us  not  into  tempta 
tion,  but  deliver  us  from  the  tempter ; " —  that  is  the 
meaning  of  the  petition ;  the  prayer  for  deliverance 
from  temptation  is  a  prayer  for  deliverance  from  Sa 
tan  and  his  dark  array.  All  temptation,  everything, 
every  influence  that  can  ever  lead  to  sin  or  suffering, 
is  of  him  or  through  him,  or  seconded  and  aided  by 
him.  Oh,  may  God's  kind,  mighty  Spirit  so  sanctify 
these  poor,  weak,  wayward  hearts,  that  we  may 
rightly  resist  evil  spirits,  until  they  finally  flee  away ! 


XVII. 

THE  NEEDFULNESS   OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.* 

0 

"  If  any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  let  him  be  Anathema 
Maranatha."  — 1  COR.  xvi.  22. 

THINK,  my  friends,  that  words  so  sol 
emn  as  these  need  nothing  beyond  their 
own  weighty  meaning  to  commend  them 
to  our  grave  attention.  Still,  it  is  worth 
our  remembering,  because  it  is  something  that  shows 
St.  Paul  attached  especial  importance  to  them,  that 
the  great  Apostle  wrote  them  with  his  own  hand,  at 
the  close  of  an  Epistle  which,  according  to  his  wont, 
he  had  dictated  to  another.  Some  think  that  it  was 
part  of  K  the  thorn  in  the  flesh "  he  bore,  that  his 
hands  always  trembled  so,  that  he  wrote  slowly  arid 
with  pain.  And  you  can  all  imagine  how,  when  this 
Epistle  came  to  Corinth,  and  the  Christians  there 
bent  over  its  leaves  in  little  groups,  all  anxious  to 
know  what  was  St.  Paul's  last  message  to  them, 
though  they  would  read  with  deep  concern  the  Apos 
tle's  words,  traced  in  the  clear,  bold  handwriting  of 

*  Preached  at  the  celebration  of  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper. 


294       THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

Stephanas,  and  Fortunatus,  and  Achaicus,  they  would 
look  with  deeper  interest  yet  upon  the  tremulous 
lines,  where  the  Apostle  had  at  the  last  taken  the  pen 
into  his  own  hand,  and  striven  to  give  in  a  single  sen 
tence  the  sum  of  all  he  had  said  before.  If  there 
was  anything  in  the  whole  Epistle  which  more  than 
another  he  wished  them  to  remember,  surely  they  had 
it  here ! 

And  as  to  the  words  in  which  this  verse  is  ex 
pressed,  you  know  that  Anathema  means  accursed, 
and  Maranatha  means  The  Lord  is  coming.  So  the 
text  means,  "If  any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  let  him  be  accursed ; "  and  it  is  understood 
that  the  addition  of  the  Maranatha  makes  a  more 
solemn  fashion  of  denouncing  such  a  one's  doom. 

But  it  is  easier  to  understand  the  Apostle's  mean 
ing  than  it  is  at  the  first  thought  to  approve  his  senti 
ment.  It  seems  a  curious  thing,  and  a  contradictory 
thing,  and  not  like  the  doing  of  a  man  who  knew 
much  of  human  nature,  to  enforce,  by  a  fearful  curse, 
the  duty  of  loving  the  kind,  merciful,  loving  Saviour, 
whom  we  specially  remember  this  day.  For  that  is 
not  the  way  to  get  any  one  to  love  Christ.  You 
cannot  frighten  the  human  soul  into  loving.  You 
cannot  make  a  man  love  Christ  by  assuring  him  that 
'he  shall  suffer  in  endless  perdition  if  he  do  not  love 
Christ.  Even  if  by  such  means  you  made  any  one 
anxious  to  love  Christ,  he  might  not  be  able  to  do 
so,  though  he  were  ever  so  desirous.  But  we  are  to 


THE  NEEDFULNESS   OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.      295 

remember  that  these  words  of  St.  Paul  are  not  a 
curse,  as  we  understand  that  phrase.  The  text  does 
not  mean  that  St.  Paul  wished  or  desired  that  any 
one  should  be  wretched  forever.  The  text  only  con 
veys  that  the  Apostle  knew  that  thus  it  would  be, 
and  felt  that  thus  it  ought  to  be.  And  the  Apostle 
knew,  too,  that,  though  the  firmest  belief  that  we 
never  can  be  happy  away  from  Christ,  and  without 
loving  Christ,  would  not  of  itself  suffice  to  awaken  in 
our  hearts  the  holy  affection  of  love  to  Him,  still, 
that  it  might  serve  a  great  end  in  making  us  more 
earnest  in  using  all  the  means  which  directly  tend 
to  awaken  that  affection  in  our  hearts.  And  it  is  in 
this  belief  that  I  have  selected  the  great  principle 
laid  down  in  the  text  for  our  meditation  on  the 
morning  of  our  Communion  Sabbath.  We  have  come 
here  this  day  especially  to  remember  our  Blessed 
Saviour ;  we  have  come  to  look  upon  the  emblems 
of  His  broken  body  and  shed  blood,  which  testify  His 
dying  love  towards  us.  We  have  come,  hoping  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  of  all  grace  may  touch  our  hearts 
with  warmer  than  ordinary  love  towards  Him  who 
loved  us,  and  gave  Himself  to  death  for  us.  We 
humbly  ask  it  of  Him,  from  whom  all  holy  affections 
proceed,  that  all  the  solemn  services  of  Communion 
may  bring  more  plainly  before  us  all  that  our  Blessed 
Redeemer  is,  and  all  that  He  did  and  suffered  for  us ; 
and  so  make  us  feel  how  happy  it  is,  and  how  easy 
it  is  when  God  enables  us,  to  love  Him  with  heart 


296     THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

and  soul  and  mind.  And  as  we  know  something  of 
that  love  of  Christ  towards  us  which  passeth  knowl 
edge,  and  (by  God's  grace)  feel  something  of  it 
within  our  own  souls,  it  will  be  profitable  for  us  to 
see  that  it  is  no  mere  wilfulness  on  the  part  of  the 
Almighty  that  leads  Him  to  set  up  this  Christian 
grace  as  of  such  essential  and  supreme  importance,  — 
that  there  is  nothing  arbitrary  in  the  great  principle, 
that  he  who  does  not  "  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ " 
never  will  be  happy,  —  but  that  in  truth  he  never 
will  because  he  never  can.  I  wish,  my  friends,  to 
make  you  see  the  reasonableness  of  the  great  prin 
ciple  implied  in  the  text;  I  wish  to  make  you  see 
the  reasonableness  of  the  service  in  which  we  engage 
to-day ;  —  that  it  is  not  merely  for  the  pleasure  of 
feeling  warm  and  pure  emotion  that  we  come  to  the 
communion-table,  or  that  we  pray  and  seek  to  love 
our  Saviour  more  day  by  day ;  but  that  in  the  na 
ture  of  things,  and  by  the  very  make  of  our  being, 
it  is  only  from  love  to  the  Saviour  that  our  true 
and  lasting  happiness  can  spring;  and  so,  that  "if 
any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  he  never 
can  be  really  or  lastingly  happy !  Waiting  at  the 
holy  table ;  waiting  for  the  breathing  of  the  Blessed 
Spirit  upon  our  hearts ;  praying  for  clearer  views 
of  our  Redeemer's  love  towards  us,  and  for  warmer 
love  towards  Him:  we  are  enjoying  no  mere  tran 
sient  privilege ;  we  are  laying  the  foundations  of  our 
eternal  bliss ;  we  are  sowing  the  seed  of  which  we 


THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.     297 

may  hope  to  reap  everlasting  life  and  never-ending 
happiness ! 

We  can  discern  two  reasons  why  we  can  be  truly 
and  endlessly  happy  only  if  we  give  the  Saviour  the 
first  place  in  our  hearts ;  two  reasons  why,  "  if  any 
man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  he  must  be  for 
ever  unsatisfied,  and  unhappy,  and  all  that  is  meant 
by  the  words  Anathema  Maranatha.  One  of  these 
reasons  arises  out  of  the  essential  nature  of  the  gospel 
scheme  of  salvation;  the  other  reason  arises  out  of 
the  essential  nature  of  the  Christian  heaven,  and  of 
the  happiness  provided  there. 

And  so,  in  the  first  place,  let  us  think  what  is 
the  way  of  salvation  which  is  set  before  us  in  the 
gospel;  what  is  the  sum  of  all  the  duty  the  gospel 
requires  of  us ;  what  is  the  inward  spring  in  our 
hearts,  from  which  all  our  Christian  duties  are  to 
flow,  and  from  which  our  entire  Christian  character 
is  to  be  developed  ?  What  is  the  essence  of  Chris 
tianity  in  the  heart  ?  Do  you  not  know,  my  friends, 
that  it  is  just  love  to  Christ?  You  all  know  what 
it  is  we  must  do  to  be  saved.  "  Believe  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved,"  said  St.  Paul 
at  Philippi ;  and  what  is  meant  by  believing  in  Christ 
but  just  going  with  trusting  and  loving  hearts,  and 
committing  to  His  love  and  power  ourselves,  our 
souls,  and  all  that  concerns  us  for  time  or  eternity  ? 

Love  to  the  Saviour  is  of  the  very  essence  of  sav- 


298      THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

ing  faith.  We  cannot  truly  and  savingly  believe  till 
we  are  enabled  entirely  to  trust  God's  love  to  us,  to 
be  sure  that  He  loves  us,  and  gave  His  Son  to  die  for 
us  because  He  loved  us,  and  wished  to  see  us  happy 
and  holy  forever,  and  till  thus  we  are  enabled  to  feel 
something  of  reciprocated  love  towards  Him  who 
"  first  loved  us."  You  remember  what  was  the  first 
and  great  commandment,  even  in  the  sterner  days  of 
the  Law,  —  even  before  God  manifested  Himself  in 
the  gracious  face  of  Christ,  —  even  through  ages  in 
which  men  were  ever  being  reminded  that  "  the  soul 
that  sinneth  it  shall  die,"  and  that  "  cursed  is  every 
one  that  continueth  not  in  all  things  written  in  the 
Law  to  do  them."  Even  in  those  days,  we  know, 
from  the  highest  of  all  authority,  that  the  command 
ment  which  grasped  the  Law's  whole  spirit  and  es 
sence,  was,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
heart  and  soul  and  strength  and  mind."  This  was 
"the  first  and  great  commandment"  even  then,  —  even 
when  the  manifestation  of  God  that  came  readiest  to 
men's  recollection  was  in  the  flames  and  thunders  of 
Sinai.  But  how  much  more  now,  in  these  days  of 
gospel  light,  in  which  God  has  revealed  Himself  to 
us  through  our  Saviour,  and  told  us  that  He  is  the 
image  of  the  invisible  God ;  now,  when  in  our  desires 
to  know  what  God  is  we  have  but  to  picture  to  our 
selves  that  Blessed  Redeemer  who  went  about  doing 
good ;  now,  when  we  have  but  to  look  to  Jesus,  and 
think  that  in  looking  at  Him  we  see  God,  —  that  in 


THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.     299 

Him,  the  kind,  patient,  merciful,  considerate  Saviour, 
who  did  so  mueh'for  us,  and  suffered  so  infinitely  for 
us,  we  see  God !  Yes,  it  is  at  once  the  way  to  sal 
vation,  and  the  sum  of  Christian  duty,  to  "  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ " ;  and  what  wonder,  then,  if  the 
Apostle  tells  us,  that  the  man  who  turns  his  back  upon 
the  only  way  of  salvation,  and  refuses  to  admit  to  his 
heart  the  one  motive  that  will  prompt  to  everything 
right,  must  be  excluded  from  the  enjoyment  of  the 
blessings  which  the  Saviour  died  to  purchase  for  us  ? 
To  trust  God,  as  seen  in  the  face  of  His  Son,  and  to 
believe  that  He  loves  us,  —  that  is  faith  ;  that  is  what 
we  must  do  to  be  saved.  And  to  love  God,  as  seen 
in  the  face  of  His  Son,  and  to  seek  to  testify  our 
love  by  our  whole  life,  —  that  is  Christian  duty ;  that 
is  all  we  have  to  do.  And  thus  you  will  see  how 
fixed  and  unalterable  is  the  solemn  principle  implied 
in  the  words  of  the  text,  when  you  consider  that  to 
refuse  to  love  Christ,  —  to  refuse  to  seek  that  Spirit, 
never  denied  to  the  earnest  seeker,  who  will  enable  us 
to  love  Christ,  —  is  to  refuse  salvation  in  the  only 
way  in  which  it  is  possible  we  can  receive  it.  "  If 
any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  he  must  be 
eternally  lost;  because  that  man  wilfully  and  obsti 
nately  refuses  to  be  saved ! 

No ;  it  was  not  mere  wilfulness  in  St.  Paul  that  led 
him  to  write  this  text.  He  was  not  seeking  to  set 
out  some  crotchet  of  his  own,  nor  giving  to  the  affec 
tion  of  love  towards  the  Redeemer  an  importance 


300     THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

beyond  what  would  have  been  accorded  to  it  by  other 
inspired  writers.  He  meant  that  here  was  a  test  that 
went  to  the  root  of  the  matter ;  he  meant  that  every 
thing  was  wrong  in  that  man's  condition  for  eternity, 
who  was  not  seeking  daily  for  more  love  to  Christ. 
For  the  fact  that  a  man  has  it  not,  is  proof  that  he 
does  not  want  it ;  for  to  desire  it  and  to  pray  for  it  is 
to  get  it.  This  affection  of  love  to  Christ  is  one  of 
the  very  first  of  the  "  fruits  of  the  spirit "  ;  and  you 
all  remember  how  fully  and  unreservedly  that  Spirit 
is  promised  to  all  who  sincerely  wish  and  ask  for 
Him.  No  one,  we  may  be  sure,  who  honestly  wishes 
to  love  the  Saviour,  will  find  it  a  hard  task  to  do  so. 
And  when  the  great  Apostle  wrote  this  awful  warn 
ing  in  the  text,  it  was  as  if  he  had  said  to  a  poisoned 
man,  Here  is  the  remedy,  here  is  the  antidote ;  but  if 
you  refuse  to  take  it,  you  will  die !  It  was  as  if  he 
had  said  to  a  drowning  man,  Here  is  a  branch,  catch 
it  and  hold  it ;  for  if  you  do  not,  you  will  go  down. 
It  was  indeed  saying  to  the  poor,  lost  sinner,  Here  is 
the  one  way  to  safety,  —  oh,  hasten  to  pursue  it ;  Here 
are  peace  and  pardon  offered  to  you  and  urged  upon 
you,  —  oh,  lay  hold  of  them  and  embrace  them ;  but 
if  you  will  not,  then  your  blood  be  upon  your  own 
head! 

But  now,  in  the  second  place,  we  come  to  the  other 
reason  which  is  to  be  suggested,  why,  "  if  any  man 
love  not  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  he  never  shall  be 


THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.      301 

satisfied  and  happy.  It  is  this:  that  by  the  very 
nature  of  the  Christian  heaven,  and  by  the  very  na 
ture  of  the  human  soul,  it  is  impossible  that  any 
man  should  be  happy  eternally  unless  he  loves  the 
Saviour. 

Here,  my  friends,  is  a  great  practical  truth,  which 
cannot  be  too  deeply  impressed  upon  us.  Some  may 
be  inclined  to  think  that  it  is  hard  in  God,  and  not 
like  his  infinite  love  that  gave  His  Son  for  us,  and 
not  like  His  own  declaration  that  He  is  "  not  willing 
that  any  should  perish,"  —  to  condemn  any  human 
soul  to  final  woe.  Might  He  not,  at  the  close  of  any 
life,  however  sinful,  in  this  world,  pardon  the  poor 
soul's  sins,  and  suffer  it  to  find  some  lowly  place  in 
the  better  country  ?  But  what,  if  that  be  impossible  ? 
What  if  it  be  so,  that  even  apart  from  any  question 
as  to  how  this  might  concern  God's  justice  and  truth, 
—  what  if  it  be  so,  that  Heaven  would  be  no  place  of 
happiness  except  to  souls  redeemed  and  renewed  and 
sanctified  ?  And  thus  it  is,  of  a  surety.  In  the  very 
nature  of  things,  a  human  being  cannnot  be  happy 
eternally  unless  he  love  the  Saviour. 

We  all  know  that  there  is  but  one  Place  where  we 
can  be  perfectly  happy.  It  is  agreed  on  all  hands 
that  this  life  never  can  be  evenly  joyous,  —  that  there 
always  will  be  some  alloy,  some  vexation,  —  a  sepul 
chre  in  the  garden,  a  shadow  in  the  home.  The  mere 
uncertainty  that  hangs  over  this  life,  —  the  knowl 
edge  that  a  single  day's  chances  may  take  from  us  all 


302   THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

we  hold  dear,  —  even  that  would  suffice  to  show  that 
this  can  never  be  our  rest.  It  is  only  in  heaven  that 
we  shall  be  right,  shall  be  holy,  happy,  and  safe. 
But  then,  what  kind  of  place  is  heaven  ?  What  is 
the  essential  thing  about  heaven  ?  Not  the  outward 
beauty ;  not  the  golden  thrones,  the  sapphire  pave 
ments,  nor  the  glassy  sea ;  not  the  matchless  music, 
nor  the  triumphal  palms,  nor  the  spotless  robes,  nor 
the  day  without  night ;  —  No ;  the  great  thing  there 
is  the  constant  presence  of  the  Saviour.  The  great 
thing  there,  we  know  from  the  same  Apostle  who 
wrote  our  text,  is  that  there  the  soul  "shall  be  for 
ever  with  the  Lord."  And  here,  you  see,  is  the  essen 
tial  point  of  difference  between  the  Christian  heaven 
and  the  paradises  promised  by  false  prophets  and 
false  religions.  They  have  always  been  described  as 
places  which  would  make  any  one  happy  who  could 
find  entrance  into  them,  and  find  a  home  in  them. 
You  can  see  in  all  accounts  of  them,  that  first  belief 
of  man,  —  that  belief  of  a  primitive  age  and  an  untu 
tored  race,  that  happiness  is  a  matter  of  one's  outward 
lot.  That  belief  is  deep  set  in  human  nature.  You 
remember  the  great  moralist's  account  of  the  Happy 
Valley,  where  every  one  was  sure  to  be  blest.  The 
popular  belief  that  there  might  be  a  scene  so  fair  that 
it  would  make  happy  any  human  being  who  should 
be  allowed  to  dwell  in  it,  is  strongly  shown  in  the 
name  universally  given  to  the  spot  which  was  inhab 
ited  by  the  parents  of  our  race  before  evil  was  known. 


THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHKIST.     303 

It  was  the  Garden  of  Delight ;  and  the  name  de 
scribes  not  the  beauty  of  the  scene  alone,  but  the 
effect  it  would  produce  upon  the  mind  of  its  tenants. 
The  paradises  of  all  rude  nations  are  places  which 
profess  to  make  every  one  happy  who  enters  them, 
quite  apart  from  any  consideration  of  the  world  which 
he  might  bear  within  his  own  breast.  And  the  same 
principle,  that  the  outward  scene  and  circumstances  in 
which  a  human  being  is  placed  are  able  to  make  him 
perfectly  and  unfailingly  happy,  whatever  he  himself 
may  be,  is  taken  for  granted  in  all  we  are  told  of  the 
Paradise  of  the  Moslem,  of  the  Scandinavian  Valhalla, 
the  Amenti  of  the  old  Egyptian,  the  Peruvian's  Spirit- 
World,  and  the  Red  Man's  Land  of  Souls.  But  all 
we  are  told  of  the  Christian  heaven,  founds  upon  a 
far  deeper  and  farther-reaching  view.  It  goes  upon 
this :  that  happiness  is  something  within  the  breast ; 
that  it  is  the  happy  soul  within,  rather  than  the  beau 
tiful  scenes  without,  that  shall  make  man  happy.  The 
Christian  heaven,  with  far  deeper  truth,  is  less  a  lo 
cality  than  a  character ;  its  happiness  is  a  relation 
between  the  employments  provided  and  the  spiritual 
condition  of  those  who  engage  in  them.  And  it  was 
a  grand  and  noble  thing,  when  a  creed  came  forth, 
which  utterly  repudiated  the  notion  of  a  Fortunate 
Island,  into  which,  after  any  life  you  liked,  you  had 
but  to  smuggle  yourself,  and  all  was  well.  It  was  a 
grand  thing,  and  an  intensely  practical  thing,  to  point 
to  an  unseen  world,  which  will  make  happy  the  man 


304      THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

who  is  prepared  for  it,  and  who  is  fit  for  it,  and  no 
one  else. 

I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  heaven  is  not  a  real, 
substantial  place,  —  as  real  and  substantial  as  this 
world.  It  is  all  that,  no  doubt ;  the  great  doctrine  of 
the  Resurrection  of  the  Body  implies  a  solid,  material 
country ;  we  "  seek  a  country  "  not  of  mists  and  shad 
ows,  but  one  which  material  feet  can  tread,  and  hands 
of  flesh  and  blood  can  grasp.  But  still  remember  that 
the  great  thing  about  heaven  is,  that  Christ  is  there, 
that  there  "  we  shall  be  forever  with  the  Lord." 
And  now,  my  friends,  do  you  not  see  how  impossible 
it  is  that  any  one  should  be  happy  in  heaven  unless 
he  loves  the  Saviour  ?  It  would  not  make  any  one 
happy  to  be  with  Christ  unless  he  loves  Christ;  it 
would  not  make  you  happy  to  be  with  one  you  did 
not  care  for.  You  see  how  true  the  text  is,  and 
why  the  text  is  true.  Heaven  is  the  only  place 
where  man  can  be  happy ;  a  man  without  love  to 
Christ  would  not  be  happy  in  heaven ;  and  therefore, 
a  man  without  love  to  Christ  would  not  be  happy 
anywhere.  He  must,  anywhere  in  God's  creation,  be 
unsatisfied,  restless,  wretched ;  all  that  is  conveyed 
by  that  terrible  Anathema  Maranatha. 

Oh,  brethren,  let  us  bear  this  in  our  memory ; 
and  let  us  pray  this  day  at  the  Holy  Table  for  more 
love  to  Christ !  Praying  for  that,  and  getting  that, 
as  we  shall  if  we  pray  for  it,  we  are  making  ourselves 
such  that  we  shall  be  happy  in  heaven.  Wanting 


THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.      305 

that  love,  we  should  not  care  for  heaven,  even  if  we 
got  there.  It  is  our  common  way  to  picture  heaven 
to  ourselves  as  an  extraordinarily  beautiful  place. 
A  great  many  people  think  of  heaven  just  as  some 
thing  differing  in  degree  from  this  world,  but  not 
differing  in  kind, — just  as  an  incomparably  finer 
and  more  beautiful  world,  but  the  same  sort  of  thing. 
They  think  that  all  that  is  most  beauteous  here  is 
imaged  there  in  happier  beauty;  they  think  of 
brighter  skies,  and  calmer  seas,  —  of  "  an  ampler 
ether,  a  diviner  air  " ;  of  streams  that  run  in  living 
light ;  of  walls  of  gems  and  gates  of  pearl,  and  light 
that  never  fades  and  songs  that  never  cease;  they 
dwell  upon  all  that  august  and  splendid  materialism 
of  the  better  world,  which  is  piled  up,  like  sunset 
clouds,  in  the  closing  chapters  of  the  Revelation  ; 
they  cherish  a  thought  —  do  not  some  of  you  here 
cherish  a  thought  —  that  this  outward  glory  is  the 
thing  that  makes  heaven,  —  that  the  first  thought  of 
the  blest  soul  entering  there  will  be,  what  a  magnif 
icent  and  beautiful  place  its  eternal  home  is,  —  that 
heaven  is  just,  in  all  the  literalness  of  the  words, 
"  another  and  a  better  world !  "  Oh,  you  mistake  it, 
if  you  dream  of  such  a  thought  as  this  !  It  is  not  mere 
external  loveliness  that  will  make  the  paradise  of  the 
Christian's  strivings  and  the  Christian's  hopes.  No ; 
beautiful  as  heaven  may  be,  beautiful  as  heaven  must 
be,  it  would  be  a  poor  and  empty  thing  to  make  the 
immortal  soul's  eternal  bliss,  if  you  had  said  your  best 


306   THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

of  it  when  you  had  told  us  of  its  outward  beauty.  It 
is  not  walls  of  gems  and  gates  of  pearl  that  will  make 
the  soul  happy  !  It  must  be  something  that  eye  hath 
not  seen  arid  ear  hath  not  heard  that  shall  do  that ! 
And  we  know  what  it  is :  it  is  the  presence,  the 
society,  the  constant  love  of  Christ.  It  is  that  there 
"we  shall  be  forever  with  the  Lord ! "  It  is  that  there 
"  we  shall  be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He 
is ! "  The  power  of  heaven  to  make  completely 
happy  lies  in  this,  —  that  our  Redeemer  is  there  ! 

Nor  is  there  anything  mystical  or  irrational  in  all 
this.  Even  in  this  world  it  makes  us  happy  to  be 
with  those  we  love.  You  have  all  known  what  it  is 
to  feel  happy  by  being  in  the  society  of  those  you 
love ;  you  have  perhaps  thought  that  though  you  were 
carried  away  to  almost  any  corner  of  this  world,  you 
would  still  be  happy  and  content  if  those  you  love 
were  still  around  you  there.  And  the  great  happiness 
of  heaven  will  just  be  a  perfect  degree  of  that  same 
thing  of  which  an  imperfect  degree,  amid  many  clogs 
and  drawbacks,  made  the  great  happiness  here.  And 
the  deeper  and  the  more  pervading  the  believer's  love 
to  his  Saviour,  the  greater  will  be  his  happiness  in 
heaven.  The  thought  which  should  ever  come  warmest 
home  to  the  Christian's  heart,  as  he  looks  onward  to 
the  Golden  City,  is  that  his  Redeemer  will  always  be 
there.  That  is  what  makes  heaven.  All  the  glories 
and  beauties  of  the  Revelation  are  mere  slight  inci 
dental  trifles  when  compared  with  that !  There  may 


THE  NEEDFULNESS   OF  LOVE  TO   CHRIST.       307 

be  pearly  streams  and  silver  sand,  —  we  do  not  know ; 
there  may  be  diamond  dews  glittering  on  fadeless 
flowers  ;  there  may  be  golden  pavements  and  glassy 
seas  ;  there  may  be  palms  of  triumph,  and  thrones  of 
gold,  and  palaces  not  built  with  hands,  that  towei 
into  that  sky  of  cloudless  blue ;  it  may  be  that  every 
description  the  Bible  gives  us  of  the  materialism  of 
heaven  shall  be  fulfilled  to  the  letter ;  but  oh  !  the 
grand  thing  there  will  be  the  Beatific  Presence  of 
Christ :  to  look  on  His  kind  face,  to  hear  His  kind 
voice ;  to  know  that  that  is  the  very  Redeemer  that 
died  for  us,  the  very  Jesus  of  Nazareth  who  went 
about  doing  good,  —  the  God  who  was  with  us,  and 
kept  us  in  all  ways  that  we  went,  and  guided  our 
wandering  footsteps  through  the  perplexing  paths  of 
life,  and  spread  His  covering  wings  around  us  till  our 
wanderings  closed,  and  our  souls  arrived  in  peace  at 
our  Father's  house  forever  ! 

And  what  shall  we  say  to  all  this,  for  a  comment 
upon  our  text  ?  "  If  any  man  love  not  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  he  shall  be  Anathema  Maranatha."  You  see 
why  it  must  be  so.  If  we  be  such  that  Heaven  would 
not  make  us  happy,  then  happy  we  can  never  be. 
If  any  human  being  will  not  love  Christ,  then  there  is 
no  provision  in  the  universe  for  making  him  happy. 
It  is  no  arbitrary  appointment  that  the  soul  which  will 
not  love  Jesus  should  be  wretched  forever ;  it  is  the 
necessary  consequence  of  its  wanting  that  pure,  per- 


308   THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

vading  love ;  and  apart  from  the  positive  woes  of 
perdition,  an  eternity  of  wretchedness  grows  from  the 
want  of  love  to  Christ,  as  naturally  as  the  oak  grows 
from  the  acorn,  or  the  harvest  from  the  scattered  grain. 
It  is  not  that  love  to  Christ  merits  heaven  ;  it  does 
far  better,  it  makes  heaven  !  Carry  the  soul  that  loves 
the  Saviour  supremely  into  His  presence  forever, 
and  it  is  in  heaven  !  But  remember,  it  is  only  the 
presence  of  those  he  deeply  loves  that  can  make  a 
human  being  happy.  It  would  not  make  us  happy  to 
be  always  with  one  we  did  not  care  for.  And  so,  in 
order  to  taste,  and  appreciate,  and  enjoy,  the  hap 
piness  of  the  Christian  heaven,  we  must  love  Christ 
supremely.  It  is  only  then  that  heaven  can  make  us 
happy.  If  you  do  not  love  Him,  then  your  souls  could 
no  more  feel  heaven's  blessedness,  though  you  were 
placed  in  the  midst  of  it,  than  the  blind  man's  eyes 
can  discern  the  summer  day  that  spreads  around  him 
in  its  golden  light !  The  love  of  Christ  is  as  it  were 
the  organ  of  sensation  that  takes  note  of  heaven's 
blessedness  ;  and  every  soul  that  feels  nothing  of  that 
love  need  not  dream  that  the  mere  fact  of  being  ex 
cluded  from  heaven  adds  one  grain  to  the  burden  of 
its  dreary  wretchedness.  Place  such  a  soul  in  the 
very  midst  of  heaven,  —  where  the  atmosphere  of 
the  Redeemer's  presence  is  diffused  like  fragrance  in 
the  spring-tide  air,  —  and  still  that  flood  of  bliss  that 
wakens  ever-fresh  delight  in  the  redeemed  man's  soul 
would  fall  as  effectless  and  as  unnoted  upon  that  un- 


.  THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.     309 

changed  spirit  as  the  bursts  of  angelic  melody  upon 
the  ear  to  which  all  sound  is  silence,  or  as  the  sun 
beams  of  June's  blue  sky  upon  the  eye  to  which  all 
light  is  dark !  So  true,  so  inevitable,  is  the  solemn 
principle  of  the  text,  that  "  if  any  man  love  not  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  he  must  be  Anathema  Maranatha !  " 
And  thus  you  see,  Christian  friends,  that  in  coming 
to  this  holy  place  to-day  to  celebrate  a  rite  which  is 
especially  fitted  to  awaken  in  us  warmer  love  to  our 
kind  Redeemer,  we  have  not  come  merely  that  we 
might  enjoy  something  of  kindly  and  pleasant  emotion. 
It  is  painful  to  hate,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  love ;  but 
we  do  not  now  seek  to  love  our  Saviour  merely  be 
cause  it  is  pleasant.  It  is  the  thing  in  us,  that  love 
of  Him  who  loved  us  and  died  for  us,  from  which  all 
our  future  bliss,  by  the  nature  of  things,  must  flow. 
And  it  might  be  a  hard  saying  that  we  never  can  be 
happy  if  we  do  not  love  Christ,  if  the  love  of  Christ 
were  a  difficult  thing  to  get,  or  a  painful  thing  to  feel. 
But  who  shall  complain  of  this  text,  stern  as  at  the 
first  glance  it  seems,  when  we  think  that  it  requires 
of  us  nothing  more  than  that  we  should  open  our 
hearts  to  a  pure  affection  which  will  make  our  hearts 
happier  than  they  ever  were  before,  —  a  pure  affec 
tion  which  the  Blessed  Spirit  is  willing  and  waiting 
to  work  hi  us,  if  we  do  but  sincerely  desire  to  possess 
it !  Love  Christ,  and  then  all  will  be  well,  —  well 
for  our  soul's  salvation,  well  for  our  daily  duty,  well 
for  our  comfort  and  peace  so  long  as  God  shall  spare 


310     THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST. 

us  here.  Surely,  it  is  not  difficult  to  love  Him! 
Think  how  good  and  kind  He  was  and  is  ;  think  of 
what  He  did  for  us ;  think  of  the  precious  death  and 
of  the  unutterable  agony,  undergone  for  us,  which 
we  specially  commemorate  this  day  !  If  you  have 
ever  seen  something  that  warmed  and  touched  your 
heart,  in  a  mother's  self-sacrificing  love  for  her  child, 
as  she  watched  that  little  thing  through  days  and 
nights  of  "suffering  that  threatened  to  end  its  short 
life,  think  that  in  all  that  tender  care  you  had  given 
you  the  faintest  and  farthest  shadow  of  that  unweary 
ing  love  that  dwells  in  our  kind  Redeemer's  heart. 
And  though  you  may  shrink  from  absolute  God,  clad 
in  those  incomprehensible  perfections,  —  though  you 
cannot  give  your  love  to  infinite  space  and  infinite 
years, — yet  surely  you  do  not  shrink  away  from  Jesus 
of  Nazareth;  surely  you  could  have  loved  Him  in 
His  days  in  this  world ;  surely  you  can  love  Him 
yet!  What  hearts  should  we  have  if  we  did  not 
love  Him  !  How  infinitely  did  He  surpass  all  human 
excellence,  —  all  that  ever  you  loved  in  human  be 
ing  ;  how  much  He  did,  how  infinitely  He  suffered, 
for  you !  You  would  not  have  been  afraid  to  see 
that  gracious  face  looking  upon  you ;  you  would  not 
have  been  afraid  to  touch  the  hem  of  His  garment ; 
you  would  have  gone  to  Him  confidently  as  a  little 
child  to  a  kind  mother ;  you  would  have  feared  no 
repulse,  no  impatience,  as  you  told  out  to  Him  the 
story  of  all  your  sins,  and  wants,  and  cares.  Oh,  that 


THE  NEEDFULNESS  OF  LOVE  TO  CHRIST.     311 

we  might  understand  something  of  His  undying  love 
towards  us  ;  and  that  by  the  meditations  of  a  Com 
munion  season  we  may  feel  our  souls,  and  all  that 
is  within  us,  stirred  up  to  deeper  and  purer  love 
towards  Him! 


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